


(Let's Be) Alone Together

by BleedingInk



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Human, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, May/December Relationship, Office Romance, Writer Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-21
Updated: 2018-11-21
Packaged: 2019-08-26 13:11:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 66,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16682239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BleedingInk/pseuds/BleedingInk
Summary: Twenty-four years old Castiel Novak is a small town boy fresh out of college with great literary ambitions but little experience. He takes a six months internship in a publishing house hoping this will be the start of his career as a writer, but gets stuck fetching coffee and answering calls for the company’s executive editor, recent divorcée Meg Masters. In a fit of bravery, he asks her to give his manuscript a read and though she refuses at first, she ends up giving him a chance and offering to mentor him. As they spend more and more time working together, Castiel finds himself fascinated by this lonely, harsh woman who is twenty years his senior and hoping he can take a peek behind the walls she has built around herself.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Megstiel Big Bang 2018.
> 
> Especial thanks to my artist, Squiddy (you can check her art [here](http://inkbleeder.tumblr.com/post/180342024411/title-lets-be-alone-together-author) and my Beta, Rose. Thanks guys!

“Everything is wonderful, Hannah. You don’t need to worry about me.”

He had said the lie so many times he almost managed to sound convincing. His sister, however, knew him better than that.

“Really? Do you like your new apartment?”

“Yes,” Castiel lied once again. “It’s not too big, but it’s okay.”

The truth was, the apartment wasn’t meant to have more than one person living in it, much less three. The kitchen was pretty much a single wall, the shower was tiny enough that Castiel didn’t fear slipping in it since it wouldn’t be much of a fall and his “room” was actually the living room. He had a futon that doubled as the sofa. It was uncomfortable and it creaked. At night, he could see the neon light seeping in through the window’s pane.

His roommates, the Winchester brothers, were well-aware of what a shitty deal it was when he came in to check the place.

“Look, man, it’s the best we can offer you,” Dean said. “I know it’s not much, but the rent is cheap and Benny from upstairs lets us use his Wi-fi.”

Dean was a mechanic working at a scrapyard and trying to save every penny so Sam, his younger brother, could afford his tuition at Stanford without being crushed under horrible, debilitating debt. Castiel could relate. He, too, had a mountain of student loans to pay and sharing a sad, tiny apartment with two people was the best way to do that while also not having to work at something he hated.

“You could have taken the position at the school,” Hannah reminded him every other time they talked on the phone.

“You know I’m not good with children, Hannah,” Castiel groaned, unwilling to start that debate again.

Hannah must have perceived the tiredness in his voice, because she changed the subject:

“How’s work going?”

“Well… it’s going,” Castiel said, carefully.

He didn’t want to complain about the horrors of having to smile until his cheeks hurt, of having to take and prepare orders exactly right or risk the ire of clients who shouldn’t be drinking coffee that late at night anyway. He was on his feet for hours that felt like an eternity and had to take two different buses to make it back home. After just a week, he was so tired he regularly fell asleep on his futon without even noticing how sunken it was on places. All for a salary that was barely enough to afford his third of the rent. And that wasn’t even mentioning his day job.

“It’s not a job if they don’t pay you for it,” Hannah insisted.

“Hannah, please,” Castiel sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “This is a great opportunity for me, to do what I’ve always wanted to do. This is what I came here for.”

At this point in their conversation, Hannah usually let out a noncommittal hum. Castiel knew she wanted to tell him to forget about it and come home, that he would have a better opportunity that didn’t require him living paycheck to paycheck in such less than ideal conditions. But at the same time, she wanted to be supportive of him and his decisions and it was really hard for her to make up her mind about what to tell him.

So Castiel decided to make it easier for her.

“I have to go. My lunch break is almost over.”

“Are you eating well?”

The microwave pinged, announcing his meal was ready. Castiel took out the plate and stared disappointedly at his Hot Pocket. He apparently had left it in for so long that the cheese had started to come out from one of the sides.

“Yes. Five full meals a day.”

“You’re lying,” Hannah accused him.

Castiel went through the cabinets above his head until he found the paper napkins.

“Perhaps, but only because I know the truth would make you worry about me.” Hannah started to protest, but Castiel cut her off: “Really, Hannah, I’m doing fine. And things will only start looking up from here.”

There was a long pause at the other end of the line, before Hannah let out a deep sigh.

“Alright. Just promise me you’re taking care of yourself, Cas.”

“I am,” he assured her. “Goodbye, sister.”

He munched on his Hot Pocket and stared at the computer screen. He had planned on using his break to add a few more words to his draft, but suddenly the inspiration was gone. The scene had played out so perfectly in his head, but now he re-read the last line he had written and found they were just plain, boring words. He tapped his fingers next to the keyboard for a few seconds and then deleted the entire sentence. He was thinking of what to add next when he heard the elevators door opening across the hall and groaned to himself.

The break was definitely over now.

Marjorie Masters never had a hair out of place, especially when she tied up her black loose curls in a bun like she had today. Castiel had been working for her for three weeks now and he had never seen her look anything but impeccable. She strutted inside the office in her white blouse, perfectly tailored black slacks and vertiginous heels that had walked all over the dreams of hundreds of aspiring writers. She started talking so fast Castiel had the impression her brain worked ten times faster than that of a normal human:

“Clarence, I need you to call Alicia Banes and tell her our meeting has been postponed for Thursday. Then call Gordon Walker and tell him we’re moving the brunch with his new writer for Tuesday. And don’t forget…”

She passed by his desk and into her own office, so Castiel stood up to follow her as quickly as he could so he wouldn’t miss the instructions she was still giving.

“… to tell him to send me the new Marvin Tron manuscript,” she continued. “I want to oversee it myself.”

“Yes, Mrs. Masters,” Castiel replied, hurriedly taking notes of all the people he had to call. He stood on the doorway of her office as his boss threw her bag on the sofa and walked around her desk. She opened a drawer by the side and took out a pair of red rim glasses that she put on before staring at him with a crooked eyebrow. Castiel had come to learn that gesture meant she thought he was wasting her precious time, so he raised the issue in his mind as quickly as he could: “I was just… wondering when exactly you were planning on reading it. You have appointments all through the week: a marketing meeting in an hour, then the brunch with Mr. Walker, and next Friday there’s the release party…”

“Do you have any particularly interest in the Tron manuscript?” she asked, glaring at him over the edge of her glasses with her enormous brown eyes.

“No,” Castiel said, suddenly acutely aware of the fact he was basically about to tell his boss how to do her job. “But since Tron is one of the company’s more prominent writers and he has a tendency to be… voluble, I just… imagined he would like to have an answer as soon as possible. And since you’re so busy, perhaps you would rather… have me call one of the editors and ask them?”

“Marvin hates all of them. He only accepts criticisms and suggestions from me,” Mrs. Masters clarified. Her tone was sharp, like that of a teacher scolding a student for speaking out of line. “I’ll take the manuscript home and read it there. It’s not like I have anything more interesting to do. And in any case, I’ll have plenty of sleep when I’m dead.”

As if to punctuate that statement, she took out a package of cigarettes from the same drawer and put one between her dark red lips. Castiel knew he only had five seconds from there before she turned it on and the smell of smoke clung on to his clothes for the rest of the day. He began backing down when she called him again:

“It was well-thought, though, Clarence,” she said, and coming from her, that was a shining compliment. “Maybe we don’t pay you enough.”

“You… don’t pay me at all,” Castiel reminded her. “I am an intern.”

“Right.” Mrs. Masters smiled as if she thought it was a very funny joke to remind him he was one unsatisfied client at the coffee shop away from starvation. “Well, be a darling and bring me a coffee while you’re at it. Black, no sugar.”

Castiel nodded and left for the kitchen wondering how it was possible this woman hadn’t died of a heart attack yet. She was always out for brunch or lunch or dinner with a writer or another in fancy restaurants with names Castiel couldn’t even pronounce, she chain-smoked like crazy and this was the third time she had asked him to make her a coffee just today. When he came back with her mug, she was on the phone apparently having a very heated discussion with whoever was on the other side.

“Listen, Serra, bad BDSM in romance novels doesn’t shock anyone anymore. You can tell the people at the romance branch that we’re looking for something fresher, okay? Send me some manuscripts people will actually want to get their rocks off to.”

Castiel approached her desk and left the coffee nearby pretending he hadn’t heard what he had just heard. Mrs. Masters didn’t even acknowledge his presence as she kept talking:

“First of all, I hate the term ‘mommy porn’, so the next time you say those words, I will fire you…”

Castiel closed the door behind him and sat back in his desk. His Hot Pocket had got cold. He rolled his chair backwards and stared at the bin beneath his desk for a second, before rolling forwards again and putting the Hot Pocket back next to his keyboard. He took bites of it while people yelled at him all the things they actually wanted to yell at Mrs. Masters.

“She can’t just reschedule a meeting with no notice!”

“I am giving you the notice, Miss Banes. If this is an issue for you, perhaps you’d want to tell it to Mrs. Masters directly?”

Alicia Banes hanged up and Castiel had time to finish his “lunch” before she called again.

“Tell her I’ll move the reservation, but that we’re having the meeting in the same restaurant.”

He hadn’t been there for long, but Castiel had come to learn there weren’t many people who could say no to Marjorie Masters. For one, because she was the “Masters” from “Fitzgerald and Masters”, as in, the name that was engraved in the building’s entry. Garfield Fitzgerald IV, the company’s CEO, had inherited his part, but Mrs. Masters had climbed the ranks and invested herself in the business until she earned the office in the top floor with a window overseeing the city of Palo Alto and the right to veto the books that would get published and to pick an intern to be her personal slave… or “assistant”, as it was the preferred term.

The other reason no one could tell her no was because Mrs. Masters knew what was going with the business at any given time. She micromanaged like crazy, she knew exactly how many unsolicited manuscripts came in every week and the name of all the senior editors in every subsidiary and minor branch. The only thing she didn’t seem to remember was the name of the guy that fetched her coffee and answered her phone, but that was probably because Castiel was so insignificant to such an important woman he wasn’t worthy of her speaking his actual name.

Or that’s how he put it when he complained about her calling him “Clarence” to Sam and Dean.

Castiel had a peaceful afternoon once Mrs. Masters left for her meeting with the marketing department and managed to put down a couple hundred words in his draft. It wasn’t anything spectacular, just a short story to keep himself from stagnating. Back at home and during college, he always managed to make some time for writing, even if it was just a few minutes. These days, he felt like every second he could snatch away from all the responsibilities weighing down on him were precious and he got mad at himself when he wasted any of them staring at the screen like he had nothing to say. He’d always had something to say, a story to tell, the end of a thread that he could follow to the center of the labyrinth and unravel a plot, characters, words of dialogue. Writing was easy; it was what he _did_.

Until it wasn’t.

And that was the hardest part of it all. Not the shitty apartment or the terrible clients or his indifferent boss. Even the lack of money he could deal with; he and Hannah had never been rich. It was the fact he had gone to that city and got that internship to become a writer and he didn’t feel like he had written much at all in the past weeks. Maybe it was a matter of adjusting and finding the rhythm to this new life of his. Or maybe the fact he had finished his novel right before coming there had broken him and hollowed him out and now he would never put two words together that were worth anyone’s time. Could be that, too.

Mrs. Masters returned from her meeting with the marketing department with an unreadable expression and passed by Castiel’s desk without taking a single look at him. He took it to mean that it had gone well, because if they hadn’t, she would be cursing under her breath and ordering him to make more calls to other people. Instead, she locked herself in her office and let the rest of the afternoon fly by without bothering him. A couple of hours later, Castiel stood up and knocked on the door.

“Anything interesting happened, Clarence?” she asked, not taking her eyes off the computer.

“Uh, I don’t know about interesting,” Castiel replied. Mrs. Masters nodded at him, encouraging him to start speaking. “But Gordon Walker said he e-mailed you Tron’s manuscript, Cole Trenton from the mystery division says he found something in the pile of unsolicited manuscripts that you should check and someone named Ruby called…”

Mrs. Masters finally moved her head to look at him.

“Ruby?” she repeated. “What did she say?”

“Uh, nothing. She wanted to speak to you, but you were out and when I asked if she wanted to leave a message, she said no,” Castiel explained. His boss’ face was still unreadable, but her stare was so unnerving Castiel wished that the ground opened up underneath him and he would plummet twenty floors down to avoid it. “Should I have insisted…?”

“No,” she mumbled and finally looked away from him. “You did just fine. Are you on your way out, Clarence?”

“Yes.”

“Well, goodnight, then. Have a good weekend.”

Castiel doubted it. He had taken a double shift on the coffee shop for Saturday, which meant that he would barely had any time to go back home and catch some sleep before he had to be on his feet again. But at least he had Sunday free, which meant he would finally had time to sit in front of his computer and finish this story and perhaps…

He was already on the street when the thought occurred to him to pat his pocket. He had his wallets and his keys with him, but he had forgotten his flash drive in his computer upstairs. Cursing out loud, he turned around and dashed back inside the building just as the security guard was about to close the doors.

“It’ll be just a moment, I promise,” he said when the man glared at him. “I’ll be right back.”

He ran into the elevator and pushed the button while terrible, panicky thoughts started going through his head. What if he had taken the flash drive out and lost it somewhere else? He looked at the elevator’s floor, but saw nothing out of the ordinary there. But what if someone else had found it and taken it away? His face burned with humiliation. All of his stories, his unfinished drafts, his novel; all of it could be in the hands of a complete stranger that could read them and ridicule him and…

The elevator finally reached its floor and Castiel stumbled out as fast as his feet would move. The offices were eerily silent with all the senior editors and their respective PAs gone and all the lights already off. Every step he took was magnified to the point of sounding like a weird echo in his ears, or maybe it was the beating of his heart drowning everything else. He forced himself to slow down and hoped to God that Mrs. Masters hadn’t locked the office’s door.

He was in luck: not only was it still open, but his flash drive was still where he had left it, sticking out of the company’s laptop side. Castiel pulled it out with a sigh of relief and slid it back inside his pocket. He needed to be more careful with these things. Perhaps make a backup copy in his old computer once he got home. He didn't trust clouds and…

He was about to turn on his heels and leave, his thoughts still reeling from the mild panic he had just suffered, but a voice rooted him to his spot.

"No, I'm telling you to do whatever you like! It's what you always do anyway, isn't it?"

Mrs. Masters was angry. Not just mildly irritated because someone screwed up at their job, but genuinely about-to-throw-something-at-the-wall furious. Her smoky voice sounded strange screaming, like her lungs wouldn't allow her to do it at full volume, but she was still loud enough that he could hear it from outside.

Castiel turned around. Her office was the only one that still had the lights on. Through the glass door, he could see her figure, with her back turned to him and talking on the phone, so clearly, she wasn't talking to him. He should have taken his cue then. He should have left and pretended he hadn't heard a word. He was going to, but she just didn't give him time.

She threw her phone over her desk and started feeling around until she found her pack of cigarettes. Just as she was taking one out, she looked up and her eyes met Castiel's.

Finally, his fight or flight instincts kicked in and Castiel headed, almost sprinted towards the door. It still wasn't fast enough: he hadn't taken five steps when he heard her calling him.

"What are you doing here?"

Castiel stopped and swallowed. Would she believe him? Would she think he was spying on her? Would she fire him? Oh, God, he hoped not. The only worse thing than being fired less than a month into his internship was having to imagine how he would go back home and face Hannah.

But he couldn't keep running, so he went back and faced her.

"I was... I forgot... are... are you okay, Mrs. Masters?"

She didn't look okay. Not like her usual self, in any case: she had loosened up her bun, so her long black hair cascaded down her shoulders, giving her an unusually messy aspect. She looked a lot more beautiful that way, too. However, the thing that really prompted his question was her eyes. They were reddened and wet, with tears brimming on the edge.

"I'm fine," she said. Her voice broke down and she wrinkled her nose, trying to keep herself from crying. "I'm... go home, Castiel."

She fled back into her office, but Castiel was once more frozen in his spot.

It was the first time she ever called him by his real name.

He was going to be late for his shift at the coffee shop. His manager would be furious. His co-workers would throw dirty looks at him the second he came in since he would have been missing for the first time of the afternoon rush.

He kept telling himself all of these reasons to leave even as he walked to the water-cooler and filled the plastic cup. Besides, Mrs. Masters hadn't asked him to bring her the water, so she could very well scream at him to leave her alone and inform him on Monday that he no longer worked there on the basis of him sticking his nose in things that were none of his business.

But he just couldn't leave her like that.

Mrs. Masters was on her desk once again, but instead of a cigarette, she was holding a tissue against her eyes. She glared at him when he walked in, but her eyes softened when he placed the cup on her desk, on the same spot where he usually left her mug of coffee.

"Is there anything I can do for you, Mrs. Masters?" he asked, softly, taking a step backwards as if to signal that he would leave if she said the word.

Mrs. Masters looked at the plastic cup and then back at him. She wasn't sobbing anymore, but Castiel had the impression that was out of sheer will.

"Well, aren't you sweet, Clarence?" she asked, in a whisper. That sounded a lot more like her, maybe because she wanted to signal that whatever had unleashed the crisis had passed.

"I try," Castiel mumbled. "And... I don't know who Clarence is."

"It's... it's just a joke," she said, shaking her head. "It doesn't matter. Thank you."

It was also the first time she ever thanked him for anything. It was as if she took for granted that Castiel was supposed to do everything she asked of him during working hours, but this was above and beyond his duty as a PA. She grabbed the cup and took a couple of tentative sips from it. When she lowered it, she crooked an eyebrow at him.

“You’re still here,” she pointed out.

“You didn’t tell me if there was anything I could do for you.”

This got him a reaction he wasn’t expecting: first, a little smirk appeared on her lips. Then, a throaty, low sound followed. It took him a second to realize that Mrs. Masters was laughing at him.

“No, there’s nothing you can do for me,” she said, between chuckles. “Just never have any daughters. And wear always waterproof mascara.”

“I’ll… keep that in mind,” Castiel said, even though he wasn’t sure that advice was very practical.

She took another sip of the cup and let out a deep sigh. She was back to her old self again.

“Go. I’m sure a young handsome guy like you has something far more interesting to do on a Friday night.”

Castiel blinked at her, a little lost. He didn’t know how to even begin to register that sentence. Perhaps that’s why he began babbling pure nonsense:

“No, I’m supposed to be on my way to my job. My other job. My night job.”

“You have a night job?”

“I have to. Again, you don’t pay me here,” he reminded her.

Another smirk appeared on her lips and Castiel caught himself wondering how old she really was. When she was serious and ordering people around, the little crinkles around her eyes and the crease between her eyebrows make her look older, like a very severe teacher. But now that she was relaxed and smiling, she looked much more youthful. Forty-something. No, late thirties at most. Although with the position she held…

Castiel mentally slapped himself for making those assumptions about his boss. He really should go and forget all of this ever happened.

Mrs. Masters grabbed her bag from underneath her desk and stood up.

“Well, let me give you a ride,” she told him. “It’s the least I can do for… entertaining you.”

“Oh, you don’t have to…”

“I was heading out anyway,” she cut him off. “It’s not like I’ll be able to work anymore.”

“I don’t want you to go out of your way for me.”

“Let me give you a ride, Clarence,” she insisted, a little harsher.

Castiel decided to shut his mouth.

The security guard gave them both a dirty look when they walked past his desk, but he didn’t say anything. Castiel headed for the door, then spun on his heels when he realized that Mrs. Masters was going in a different direction. Of course, someone as important as her would have her own spot in the building’s underground parking lot.

Her car was the only one still parked in its place. Castiel knew enough about models to recognize it was a red Mercedes Benz and probably brand new. The interior smelled like pine needles and tobacco (the air freshener couldn’t quite hide the fact the car’s owner was a heavy smoker) and it was just as organized as Mrs. Masters’ desk: there were no wrappers or clothes or any of the things that could be found in his second hand Volkswagen. He had sold it upon moving to Palo Alto. Public transportation would be cheaper than paying for gas and parking.

“What were you doing?” Mrs. Masters asked and Castiel blinked, suddenly yanked back to the present. She had her eyes on the street, but she glanced at him the moment they stopped at a red light. “Back at the office, what were you doing?”

“I, uh… forgot my flash drive,” he explained, pathetically.

Mrs. Masters nodded and changed the subject:

“So, where’s this job of yours?”

Castiel gave her the address, half-expecting her to tell him that it was too far away and that he needed to get out of her car, but she said no such thing. Instead, she turned on a street with confidence, without even looking at the GPS screen on her dash.

“Saving for the tuition?”

“No, I already have my bachelor degree,” Castiel replied. “I was hoping at the end of the summer, perhaps the internship would become something more… uh, permanent.”

“Not going back to get your masters? Bold move,” she said. Castiel couldn’t tell if she was being sarcastic or not.

“College was… a great opportunity and I learned a lot of things,” he replied. He didn’t know why he was telling her this. “But I’m already neck deep in debt due to my students’ loans and in any case, being an academic isn’t what I want to do with my life.”

“You want to be an editor. I get it. But you’re going to improve your chances at getting the job if you have an advanced degree.”

Castiel said nothing, because being an editor also wasn’t exactly the direction he was going. They stopped at another red light and Mrs. Masters took the chance to glance at him again.

“No?” she asked, as if she had read Castiel’s mind. “Then what, a literary critic? Any pompous asshole can do that. You just have to decry the fact there’s nothing original under the sun and compare everyone unfavorably to Hemingway. I pegged you for someone a little more ambitious.”

Castiel chuckled, not only because it was an apt description but because he was surprised. He had thought Mrs. Masters was dry and humorless, always with her head in the work she had to do, but he was really seeing a lot more facets of this woman with every passing moment.

She kept looking at him with her eyes slightly squinted, like she was trying to figure out a puzzle. Suddenly, her eyes open wide.

“Ah, shit. You want to be a writer, don’t you?”

“What?” he mumbled and moved backwards in the seat as the car started rolling down the street again. “What makes you…? I mean, how do you…?”

“I’ve been in this business a long time, Clarence. I know the type. They walk into my office all the time. _‘Oh, Mrs. Masters, it would be such an honor for me if you’d read my book, pretty please with cherries on top’_.” She imitated a high pitch tone to illustrate the childishness of those young people who dare request a moment of her time.

Castiel felt his neck getting hotter and he pulled from the collar of his shirt. He too had considered asking Mrs. Masters to read some of his material, but he needed to gather the courage to do it.

“And what do you tell them?”

“That I’m a busy woman and I don’t have time for their crap. And get it right: it _is_ crap. You’re what, twenty-one, twenty-two years old?”

“I’m twenty-four,” Castiel clarified. The heat in his neck had rose to his cheeks and he had no doubt that if he caught a glance of his reflection in the rearview mirror, his entire face would be bright red. But he kept his eyes defiantly on Mrs. Masters. “How do you know it’s crap if you never read them?”

“Because everybody thinks they can write a book,” she continued. “That you can have one stroke of genius and come up with the next great American novel. But writing is a craft as much as anything else is and you need to spill a lot of ink before you write something worth reading. If they’re not willing to put in the time and learn how to do it right, then you shouldn’t be trying to be a writer. Is it here?”

She parked her car right in front of the coffee shop. It was a small, family-owned place, stuck between a pizza restaurant and a hippie store that sold incense and colorful bongs. Castiel looked up at the bright neon sign in the shape of a cup, twinkling against the spring night sky, and tapped his fingers against his leg for a second. He could see that it was starting to get crowded and he was a little late already, but he didn’t want to leave the car. This conversation wasn’t over.

“I’m willing,” he said. It sounded like a declaration of war. “I’m willing to learn. I went to workshops in college. I follow a lot of blogs that give advice on how to write. I…”

“That’s all very nice and well, but how do you think your writing is going to fare when you give it to a real editor?”

“I don’t know. You’re the editor.”

He must have said something funny, because Mrs. Masters laughed again and shook her head.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve, I’ll give you that,” she told him. She stared at him over the edge of her glasses for a moment before she pushed them up her nose. “Fine.”

Castiel blinked at her, disconcerted.

“Fine…?”

“I’ll read your book. Email it to me,” she clarified. “Prove that you’re willing to do what it takes.”

Castiel continued to stare at her. It was as if her words and their meaning were completely disconnected and he couldn’t make them work together to comprehend what she was saying.

“I…”

“Aren’t you late for work?” she added, with the same smirk as before.

Castiel stood underneath the neon cup for what seemed like an eternity, watching as Mrs. Masters’ car disappeared down the street, unable to move his feet to go inside the shop. There was a feeling in his stomach that he couldn’t quite figure out. It should be a victory; he had accomplished something: an actual editor, with actual experience when it came to publishing books, had agreed to give him her time and attention. That was what he wanted. That was the reason he had taken the internship.

So it was hard to figure out why his knees were trembling and why there was cold sweet sliding down his back. Dread, he realized. The thing in his stomach was utter and pure dread.


	2. Chapter 2

He didn’t have a good night at work. The risk of getting yelled at in the same night he showed up late and got a stern glare from one of his bosses should’ve been enough to keep his mind focused on the drinks and orders he had to prepare, but that wasn’t the case. He was jittery and reconsidering everything about his book, mentally going through phrases and words that sounded brilliant when he first jotted them down but now they were all confirmation of Mrs. Masters’ assessment that his writing was crap. He had to go home and do some extensive rewriting. He had to…

“Excuse me, I ordered a blueberry muffin!”

Castel forced himself to look at the redheaded girl standing in front of her. She was wearing skimpy clothes, a leather jacket and swaying a little. Clearly, she was on her way to the club and trying to get something in her stomach before she started heavily drinking. The way she sway a little and how her eyes were watering indicated, however, that the drinking had already began.

“Yes?”

“This is a chocolate chip muffin!” she explained. “Do you have any idea how many calories that has?”

Castiel did not and really didn’t care. He had been thinking about the ending of his book. Was it too much of a downer? Should he have gone with a happier ending? He had tried to make it bittersweet, but perhaps he had gone too much into the bitter direction…

“Hello? Is somebody home?” the girl insisted, waving the muffin in front of Castiel’s face. He blinked and tried to force himself to be nice, even though he already had the feeling she wasn’t going to leave anything for the tipping jar.

“I’m sorry about the confusion, miss. Give it back to me and I’ll change it for you.”

The girl huffed and left the offending pastry in front of Castiel. He picked up and looked at it for a second. Maybe the dialogue was too cheesy. Maybe he should have read it out loud to someone so he would know if it sounded natural or not…

“Well?” the girl insisted.

Castiel raised his eyes at her.

“This… this _is_ a blueberry muffin.”

In retrospective, he should have read the situation better. The client wasn’t entirely sober and obviously uninterested in having a conversation about the difference between a blueberry and a chocolate chip. He could have pretended to swap the muffin and given her the same one so she would just be content. All of these things he would tell later to his bosses, but at the moment, the only thing he managed to do was duck right as the girl let out a howl of pure rage and flung her cup of boiling hot coffee at his face.

“Abaddon, what the fuck!” one of the girl’s friends screamed, and that was the last coherent thing Castiel heard for the next twenty minutes.

Jody and Donna, the owners, came running out of their office to tell the girls that throwing coffee at the employees was frowned upon and they needed to leave, but Abaddon (he suspected that was a nickname) wasn’t much interesting in hearing them. Instead, she screeched that Castiel had sassed her and that he should be fired for it. Donna tried to placate her offering to let her have the muffin for free, but Lilith was out for blood.

“He shouldn’t be serving people anything!” she roared and tried to jump over the counter.

It was at that point that Castiel was ever so glad he had chosen to work at the shop owned by a lesbian couple of retired policewomen. Jody grabbed the woman by the arm and pulled her back, restraining her without much effort while Donna threatened to call the police. Her friends managed to drag her out of the shop while she still yelled obscenities and insults at Castiel. Jody and Donna remained impassible until they were out and then checked the street to make sure they were really gone.

“Dear, we’re gonna have to put that girl’s face in a poster,” Donna commented, as if that had been just another usual client freak out. She walked around the corner and put a hand on Castiel’s shoulder. “You okay there, kiddo?”

“I… yes. She just…”

“Go to the bathroom and calm down,” Jody said, as she put on an apron, ready to cover for him.

Castiel was going to tell her that he was calm, but the moment he closed the stall’s door behind him, he went into a full on meltdown. His entire body shivered and shook uncontrollably, his teeth chattered painfully and his breathing became agitated and shallow. Apparently, it had taken his brain this long to process the fact that _holy shit, a woman had just thrown boiling hot coffee at his face and barely missed_.

When he finally willed himself to move, he stood in front of the sink for several more seconds, splashing his face with water repeatedly. Donna was waiting for him outside the door when he came out, her round face contorted in a frown of concern.

“Wow, kid. You definitely look like you should be going home,” she commented.

“No.” Castiel shook his head. “Donna, please. I need the money.”

“You can make it up to us on Sunday,” Donna said, squeezing his shoulder to encourage him. “Go home tonight and get some sleep. Doctor’s orders.”

Castiel could’ve insisted a little more, but the truth was that he was too tired. The meltdown had completely drained him of all his energy and besides… he had other things to think about.

He almost fell asleep in the bus, but by the time he got home, he felt a lot more awake and alert. Perhaps it was just pure nervous energy, but he almost ran up the stairs to their apartment and burst in without a second thought. Sam and Dean were having dinner in the table and they both looked at him a little surprised.

“You’re home early,” Dean pointed out.

“There was an incident at the shop,” Castiel said, unwilling to elaborate. He opened the cabinets and peered inside. “Where’s my ramen?”

“Nutritious,” Dean commented.

“I… think you ate the last package the other day,” Sam commented.

“Oh.”

“You can have one of our burgers, though,” Sam said, pointing at the plate full of them. Dean threw a glance at him and Sam raised his eyebrows, so his brother swallowed whatever he was about to say and added:

“Yeah, come eat with us.”

Castiel hesitated for a moment. His relationship with the brothers was a little strange. They were the closest thing to friends he had in Palo Alto, even though there were days when he felt like he hadn’t exchanged a single word with either of them at all. The three were out most of the day working or going to classes, so the occasions when they all coincided at home were rare. Despite this, Sam and Dean made an effort to eat dinner together or sharing a beer in front of the TV some nights and usually they extended a token invitation for him to join them. Castiel usually declined because he figured they did it out of pity. That night in particular wasn’t the exception.

“I actually have something to work on.” He pulled his laptop from underneath the futon, where he stored most of his things, and turned it on. “You don’t mind?”

“No, not at all.”

“Go ahead.”

Castiel put on his earphones and let the violin and piano duo he had for that day drowned out the Winchesters’ chatter. Suddenly, the world and everything in it disappeared. He opened his book and started reading from the beginning, trying to imagine he was a stranger hearing this story for the first time.

The plot was simple: it followed a girl, Marin, whose brother Taylor had just committed suicide. After a few pages, his ghost started stalking her, trying to convince her to leave her friends and family behind and join him on the other side. Castiel's intention was that it wasn't a straight up horror story. Taylor's ghost never did anything overtly creepy like banging on walls or trying to choke someone. He just hanged around and whispered sad thoughts in Marin's ear. That way, he could be a literal ghost, but he could also represent Marin's grief and guilt and her dealing with the fallout of the tragedy.

Castiel thought he had done a good job, but as he read it, he found himself cringing at certain passages, deleting and rewriting entire sentences, and again reconsidering the last part. He had left the story open-ended, with Marin going out into the night in her car and Taylor's ghost in the passenger seat. She stopped at the same bridge Taylor had jumped from and looked down at the cold waters of the river beneath. It was up to reader to decide if she jumped as well or if she got back in the car and went back home to continue with her life and her unknown future. In Castiel's mind, it was the latter, but he wanted the devastation of her brother's suicide to really set in, the impact it had on her to be evident. He wanted the reader to know that even if she chose to keep on living, she would forever be changed by Taylor's decision.

It was kind of a downer, but it needed to be realistic. If he gave a definitive answer as to what Marin did afterwards, he would be risking forcing the story. So he decided not to change the ending after all.

It was half past three when he finished revising the draft. His eyes were itchy and his ears hurt, so he turned the music off and looked around. He didn't know at what time had the Winchesters gone to sleep, but he was alone in the living room. Despite his refusal, they had left two cheeseburgers for him over the table. Castiel didn't realize how hungry he was until he heated them up and took a bite of them. This definitely didn't qualify as the "taking care of himself" that Hannah insisted he needed to do, but he justified it telling himself that it had been a weird day all around.

He stared at the screen for several seconds while he munched on the burger, waiting for his brain to catch up to what he was supposed to do now. He needed to attach it and send it to Mrs. Masters. Would it be okay if he used her work email? Would the format of the file matter to her? He didn't believe that it did, but he didn't know how the files were supposed to be submitted when one wanted the publisher to consider it. Was he submitting it for Fitzgerald and Masters’ consideration or he was just asking Mrs. Masters for her opinion? What was he supposed to write in the message?

He second-guessed himself until he was too exhausted to go on. He put the name of his book on the subject line and simply wrote to Mrs. Masters that this was what they were talking about. The cursor hovered over the "send" button for several seconds.

Well, if he didn't do it now, he never would. He took a deep breath and clicked it.

There. Now it was done. He would have time to regret and obsess over this in the morning.

 

* * *

 

The regrets hit him the second that he opened his eyes four hours after going to bed and followed him around the rest of the weekend much like the ghost in his story. Jody and Donna were kind enough to let him come work on Sunday as well to make up for the hours he lost on Friday night and he should've been glad about it. Sundays were always the easiest days, people preferring to sleep in until late instead of coming into the coffee shop. Nothing very interesting happened on Sundays.

By the end of the day, he was wishing another Lilith had showed up and tried to murder him with coffee, because that way he wouldn't have time to nervously check his phone every two seconds. He wasn’t expecting Mrs. Masters to answer to him right away, of course, but perhaps receive some sort of confirmation that she had received his email? That should check the story soon and give him an answer sometime this week? Or perhaps her silence meant that she simply didn’t care to acknowledge him. She had told him she expected his book to be crap, so why would she even bother to read it right away?

Or maybe she would tell him she had changed her mind, that she was too busy reading actual books from actual people and to not expect an answer, ever. Castiel would feel like a complete fool should that happen. Despites all the warnings Mrs. Masters had given him, he still had got his hopes up. Perhaps she would read it and told him it was the best of the crappy first novels she had read and offer him a deal right there.

Perhaps he needed to keep his expectations a little more realistic. Yeah, that was probably what he needed to be doing.

Especially when, come Monday, Mrs. Masters didn’t even seem to remember the conversation they’d had two days prior.

He caught up with her on the way to the elevator. She looked as severe and distant as she always did when she wished her good morning.

“Did you have a good weekend?” she asked, but it sounded more like a formulaic question than her being actually interested in how his weekend had been. So Castiel decided not to tell her about the coffee incident and his increasing anxiety and instead went for the more neutral answer:

“It was alright.”

There was still about half a minute until they reached their floor, but there was another man with them there. Castiel swallowed loudly and decided that whatever shred of dignity he had left had already been stripped away.

“I… did you receive my email?”

“I did,” Mrs. Masters replied.

She checked something on her phone without adding anything else. The elevator stopped and the man exited. Castiel cleared his throat awkwardly.

“And… did you…?”

“We’ll talk about it later, Castiel,” she interrupted him. “We have a busy day ahead.”

And that was as much of an answer as he could hope to get. At least it wasn’t _‘It was utter crap just like I expected. Give up now. Bring me a coffee’_. If she wanted to talk about it, it meant there was something for them to talk about and that meant hope.

With that positive thought in mind, Castiel was able to go through the morning making calls and taking messages until Mrs. Masters left for her lunch with the president of the sci-fi branch. He was about to get up and get his usual Hot Pocket when he saw a flash of blonde hair stumbling into the office. He couldn’t see anything else, because the girl’s face was covered with the stacks of paper she was holding, so heavy she was barely able to keep her balance. Castiel hurriedly walked up to her and took some of the stacks from her arms.

“Thank you,” the girl sighed in relief and left the rest of the stacks on his paper.

“What’s all this?” Castiel asked, a little confused.

“They’re the manuscripts the editors in chief for each of the branches send,” she explained. Then her face contorted in an expression of panic. “This is Mrs. Masters’ office, right?”

“Yes, it’s here.”

“Oh, thank God,” she muttered, putting a hand on her chest. “I’ve been going from place to place all morning.”

“Are you the delivery service?” Castiel asked, cocking his head.

It was a stupid question. She was obviously young enough to be an intern, just like him, and she had an ID hanging from her chest that signaled she was part of Fitzgerald and Masters. However, she took it as a joke. She chuckled and threw her head back.

“I am today,” she said and offered Castiel her hand. “Jo Harvelle. Nice to meet you.”

“Castiel Novak,” he replied with a smile. “I’m Mrs. Masters’ PA, but I didn’t know she was supposed to get these today.”

“That’s because she was supposed to get them on Friday.”

Both Jo and Castiel startled when Mrs. Masters walked in. She threw a glance at Jo and then at the pile of manuscripts. Her mouth was a tight line of disapproval as she picked up the first stack and glanced at the first page.

“Is Tron’s new book here?”

“Uh… yes?” Jo muttered. Mrs. Masters crooked an eyebrow at her and Jo cleared her throat and repeated in a firmer tone: “Yes.”

“Good. You can go now. Clarence, take these into my office.”

And with that, she turned her back on them and marched away. Jo pretended to shudder.

“She’s intense, huh?”

“A little bit, yes,” Castiel admitted. “I should…”

“Yes, of course.” Jo smiled at him again. “I’ll see you around, Castiel.”

Castiel wasn’t sure when that was supposed to happen. He usually was at his desk all day and in the rare occasion he got up to go to the kitchen, he always did it too soon or too late to meet anybody there. But instead of pointing this out, he waved at Jo and picked up the stacks.

“Just put them over there,” she said, pointing at the white couch against the wall as she went to sit behind her desk. “If someone calls me, tell them that I’m not available. Also, bring me a coffee, please.”

Castiel understood her instructions perfectly, but he found himself unable to follow them.

“Are you… going to read all of these?”

“Only the ones I find most interesting. I need to know what we’re putting out there, though usually the heads of the branches make good calls. But don’t tell them I said that.”

She winked at him behind her glasses and started typing something in his computer. Castiel still didn’t move.

“You need something, Clarence?”

“No. Yes.” Castiel squared his shoulders and cleared his throat. Here went nothing: “I was wondering if we could talk about my… thing.”

He cringed at his word choice, but the smirk appeared once again in Mrs. Masters’ lips.

“Ah, yes. Your thing.” She opened another drawer and took out yet another stack of papers. “I have it right here.”

“You printed it?” he asked, surprised.

“Call me old fashioned, but I find that it’s easier to read that way,” Mrs. Masters explained. “I guess you can have it now. I’m going to be here stuck with Marvin’s manuscript all afternoon, so… knock yourself out.”

She slid the papers towards him until they were almost at the edge of the desk. Castiel hurried up to pick them up (it was heavier than he’d imagined it) and held it close to his chest. He almost never printed out his stories, so there was something strangely special about holding an actual, physical copy of something he had created.

“What did you think…?”

“You’ll find all my notes inside,” Mrs. Masters said. “Please, don’t forget about my coffee.”

Castiel was so exulting that she had actually taken the time to read it and written _notes_ that he made the coffee extra strong. Mrs. Masters had kicked off her shoes and was sitting on the couch next to the stacks, her attention completely focused on one of them, so Castiel gently placed the mug on her desk and went back to his without interrupting her. The copy of his book waited for him there. His fingers almost trembled as he turned over the first page.

His enthusiasm didn’t last much longer. There were marks all over the page, scribbles in a very tiny handwriting on the margins, words and even an entire paragraph crossed out, all in aggressive red ink. Castiel blinked at it and leafed through the rest. It seemed there wasn’t a single page that didn’t have a commentary or correction in them.

Even though he hadn’t eaten his Hot Pocket yet, Castiel felt like he had swallowed something very heavy and downright unpleasant. It was now sitting in the pit of his stomach, weighing him down on his chair.

But Mrs. Masters was good at what she did, right? That was the reason all the other editors there answered to her and why the most important writers wanted their opinion. He should consider himself lucky that someone like her had even taken a glance at his story. If anything, all these corrections would be for the best. With that in mind, he opened the file in his computer, decided to incorporate at least some of Mrs. Masters’ criticisms.

It was easier said than done. Most of her notes weren’t as simple as “delete this” or “add that”. There were parts that read “You could express this better” and sometimes just: “This doesn’t work”. What didn’t work? The dialogue? The scene? The description? It was too vague for Castiel to understand exactly what he was supposed to be doing.

He skipped all the way to the end and his heart sank. Right underneath the last paragraph, there was a terrible question staring at him in bright red: “Well, what was the point then?”

_What was that even supposed to mean?_

The ringing of the phone was so jarring he almost fell off his chair.

“Hello?”

“Is this Mrs. Masters’ office?”

Castiel took a deep breath and remembered where he was and what he was supposed to be doing. He tried focusing on taking the messages and writing down Mrs. Masters’ appointments, but his eyes wandered over and over to the manuscripts and its taunting red notes. He couldn’t believe this was happening. He was a good writer, dammit. Anyone who ever read anything of his said so, his teachers often congratulated him for the way he used his words. The feedback he had received had always been positive, with people only suggesting minor corrections.

Mrs. Masters was asking him to submit his manuscript to massive changes. She had questioned every single decision he had made and in doing so, she was making him question himself. It didn’t matter that he had also had doubts about certain parts of it, because he had the right to doubt them, since he had created them. He had corrected them because they needed correction. Some of the things she was asking him to delete or change just made no sense to him at all.

He managed to stay on his desk, fuming and tapping his fingers with impatience until his shift was over. He then got up and barely restrained himself from bursting inside Mrs. Masters’ office.

She barely looked up at him from the manuscript she was reading. She took out the red pen she had between her teeth to make a mark on the page at the same time she asked:

“You’re leaving, Clarence?”

A small part of Castiel knew that saying everything that was going through his mind would be career suicide, but even that wasn’t enough to hold his tongue.

“My book is good!”

She blinked behind her glasses, as if the vehemence of his words surprised him.

“Did I say it wasn’t?”

“You…” Castiel mumbled, his rage deflating a little at that simple answer. He held the manuscript up. “You marked almost everything!”

“Yes. Because everything about your book could stand to be better,” she said. She took off her glasses to stare directly at him. “Don’t get me wrong. It’s less crap than I expected it to be. You really took advantage of those college workshops. I’m a little bit impressed.”

Castiel wasn’t sure if he should take that as a compliment, considering the fact that she had still essentially called his novel crap.

“It has _potential_ ,” she continued. “But that’s pretty much all it has going for it. For it to be really _good_ , for it to publishable, you have to take that potential into the next level.”

“What’s not good about it?” Castiel insisted.

Instead of referring him back to her notes, Mrs. Masters sighed, put the manuscript she was reading aside and stood up. She was much shorter than him without her heels, but Castiel had the distinctive impression she could still take him on if she wanted to.

“It has pacing issues,” she told him. “I know most of it it’s about Marin’s depression and the long stretches of time she spends feeling miserable, but you could stand to make them bleak instead of boring. Taylor’s ghost is insufferable, which makes it impossible for me to believe that anyone would follow him into death. But the ending is the worst of all.”

Castiel’s ears burned. He had been so proud of the ambiguity of the ending…

“It’s artificial. Insincere,” Mrs. Masters continued, her words falling like lashes against his mind. “You tried to be deep and symbolic and instead of a good satisfying ending, you wrote an anticlimactic philosophical bullshit rant.”

“I was trying to…”

“I don’t know what you were trying to do and I don’t care,” she interrupted him. “What matters is what you did: you chickened out of giving the reader an answer, so you rendered whatever intention you had moot. That’s unforgivable.”

Castiel stood back, clutching the manuscript to his chest as if Mrs. Masters was trying to take it away from him and burn it. Suddenly she looked taller and menacingly and her brown eyes had never been colder as they stared daggers into him.

“I hope you weren’t expecting me to give you a pat in the head and tell you it was good,” Mrs. Masters continued, her tone slightly mocking now. “Lord knows I don’t even do that with my published authors.”

Castiel’s entire face was on fire. He parted his lips, but his words got caught in the sudden lump in his throat. His brain was indicating him that he needed to run from there, to go away before she said anything else that made him doubt himself and every single step he had taken to get to this moment. He turned around to flee.

“You said you were willing to put in the work, Castiel,” Mrs. Masters said, again calling him by his real name. “That includes growing a thicker skin against the things you don’t want to hear.”

Castiel left the office quickly, without even saying goodbye to her. His hands were trembling as he headed for the exit and he didn’t know how in the world he managed to sit in the bus in silence when all he wanted to do was cry.

He wasn’t sad. He was angry. She had destroyed everything he had worked so hard on in just a few words, with just a few strokes of her red pen and it felt unfair. Of course she was going to find so many things wrong with it when she had going in assuming it would be crap from the get go. She was just a cynical editor who was only interested in making the book sellable, of course she wouldn’t like an open end that didn’t compromise or gave a real answer. She was just…

The Winchesters weren’t home and that was just as well. Castiel threw the book on his futon and paced around the apartment. It was his free night, but suddenly he was wishing he could go to the coffee shop to have people throw things at his head. At least it would be a distraction from the nagging little voice in the back of his head that kept telling him he was being a prideful idiot and that maybe Mrs. Masters had a point about some things.

No. It wasn’t that his ending was bullshit. It was that he simply hadn’t found the right words to express it.

He sat down with the corrected manuscript in his hands and again read over it, trying to figure exactly why she would think that about the parts that she had pointed out. Maybe if he could explain to her what exactly he had been trying to do…

But then, shouldn’t he had been able to convey that through his writing? He hated those professors who went on and on about writer’s intent, because many times the text itself was pretentious and unintelligible. Did he want to be one of those authors? People who were studied in academia because they were so important and good or someone whose books people could just grab from the selves and relax while reading at home?

His phone rang, interrupting his train of thought.

“Hey, are you working?” Hannah asked. She sounded cheerful.

“No, I don’t have a shift tonight,” Castiel said, pushing the manuscript away as if that could push it out of his mind as well. “How are you?”

“Well, I went to the grocery shop today…”

Hannah proceeded to regale him with a tale of how her car had broken down on the way back home and how she’d had to call a car service to help her out of her predicament. The owner of the workshop her car was taken to was a woman (who was _very_ cute, if the inflexion of Hannah’s voice were an indicator) who had made a joke Hannah couldn’t quite remember, but it had definitely been funny. Hannah was expecting her to call, to tell her when her car was fixed of course, not because she wanted anything to do with…

“Of course not,” Castiel said, amused. It was always funny when Hannah became infatuated with a woman and then she doubted herself so much before asking them out, despite the fact that she more often than not got a positive answer.

“Oh, but listen to me, going on and on about my day,” she huffed. “How was yours? I’m sure it was much better than mine.”

“Yeah…” Castiel muttered. The good humor he’d felt a moment before vanished and his eyes fell on the manuscript again. “Hannah, can I ask you something? You read my book, right?”

“Yes, of course! I loved it!”

That was what she had said the first time he’d asked her and he hadn’t bothered to interrogate her any further. What had she liked about it, exactly? Was there anything she hadn’t liked, parts she had skipped? And most important…

“What did you think of the ending?”

Hannah went quiet for far too long for Castiel’s peace of mind.

“You hated it,” he concluded, hitting his head against the wall.

“No!” Hannah said quickly. “No, I didn’t hate it, I just… I didn’t get it. But you know, it’s fine. Maybe if I had finished college like you did… I’m sure someone smarter than me would’ve understood it.”

Castiel closed his eyes.

Mrs. Masters was right. She was right about everything.

 

* * *

 

The following day started like all the other days of the week. Mrs. Masters strutted into the office reciting a string of orders she expected Castiel to fulfill so fast he barely had time to take notes on all of them and concluded by ordering him to bring her a coffee.

“… if you can find a bagel to go with it, that would be great,” she added as she sat down behind her desk and grabbed the first stack on the manuscript’s pile she still needed to read. After a few seconds, though, she raised her head and stared at Castiel with a crooked eyebrow. “You’re still here.”

“Yes,” Castiel said. He cleared his throat and hoped his face wasn’t as red as it felt. “I wanted to… ask you something.”

Mrs. Masters interlaced her fingers over the desk, watching him attentively. Castiel forced himself to swallow.

“I know you are a very busy woman, but I would like to ask you to… to help me,” Castiel said. “To… edit my book. So it will be better.”

Mrs. Masters’ eyes grew wider behind her glasses.

“Really?”

“You… you are the first person who has given me an honest and helpful criticism.”

Mrs. Masters said nothing for a while. Then, slowly, she raised her hands and took off her glasses, toying with them in her hands pensively.

“I was half-expecting you to quit,” she commented.

“Why would I do that?” Castiel asked, frowning.

“That’s normally how these things go. People don’t usually like my honest and helpful criticism, so they choose to walk away.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say I like it, exactly,” Castiel confessed. “But… I need it. You said it yourself, I have to put in the work if I want to get better.”

She was still staring at him. Why did she keep staring at him? Castiel pulled nervously from his shirt’s neck.

“I… I understand if you don’t have the time for it. But if you could simply point me in the direction of someone willing to mentor me, I’d also appreciate that a lot.”

Mrs. Masters finally looked away. She put her glasses back on, grabbed a pen and scribbled something in a piece of paper.

“You’re willing to listen to me. That already makes you much better than most of the authors I deal with on daily basis,” she commented. She stood up and in a few confident strides, she stood in front of him, smiling. Castiel’s stomach flipped as he couldn’t help but to think once more about how beautiful she was when she did that. He was so distracted that he almost didn’t realize she expected him to grab the piece of paper. “Is Saturday good for you?”


	3. Chapter 3

Castiel wasn’t sure where he expected Mrs. Masters to live in, but he had to admit, he wasn’t all that surprised. He had to take a bus that had left him right outside the residential area and then walk for several blocks until he found the address. It was old style house with arch windows stretching up above its iron gate and a large front yard with impeccable green lawn and rose bushes. It was on the corner of a street filled with similarly big and expensive homes, but this one seemed to be the biggest of them all.

He pressed the buzzer and waited for Mrs. Masters to answer, but the gate simply opened for him instead. He nervously looked around, but she was nowhere to be seen, so he took a couple of tentative steps inside. There was a rock path that lead to the entry and Castiel started following it…

A loud bark startled him. A large, hot body smashed into him and pushed him to the floor, squeezing his back pack beneath him, and in a second or two Castiel found himself staring up at a row of white teeth. A rush of panic wash over him, paralyzing him as that mouth lowered closer to him and… lick his cheek. The hot breath reeked of dog food.

“Hamlet! Leave him alone!”

The weight pinning him down disappeared and Mrs. Masters face looking down on him.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “He’s very enthusiastic about meeting new people.”

Castiel sat up. The dog that had attacked was a large Doberman, but he didn’t look as threatening as he had up close. He was standing back, wagging his short tail and looking at him with his mouth open and his tongue hanging loose on the side, almost like a droopy smile on his face.

“That’s okay,” Castiel said, rubbing his lower back as he stood up. “I just… wasn’t expecting that.”

Hamlet barked and ran in circles on the grass before returning with a blue ball that he dropped right next to Castiel’s feet.

“Don’t throw it,” Mrs. Masters warned him. “He’s not ever going to leave you alone if you do.”

Hamlet pushed the ball closer with his snout and whined softly, but Mrs. Masters ignored him and turned her attention to Castiel.

“Come with me.”

She turned around, her white sundress tangling between her legs. She looked much shorter in her flats and much younger with her still wet hair falling loose over her shoulders. Castiel wasn’t sure why he had expected her to wear pantsuits and shirts in the comfort of her own home, except that she was always so professional and serious it was hard to imagine her in anything else.

The silence was getting awkward as she guided him around the house, so Castiel tried to quickly come up with a conversation topic.

“I… I didn’t take you for a dog person.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“Nothing, just that… uh, I imagined you’d like cats better,” he explained, with his face becoming hotter all of the sudden.

A soft smirk appeared on Mrs. Masters lips.

“No, I’m very much a dog person. I wasn’t planning of having another after Romeo and Juliet passed, but living alone, I needed some sort of guard.”

Castiel couldn’t imagine Hamlet protecting anybody, truth be told. When he realized they weren’t up to playing with him, he continued running around the yard, rolling on his back on the lawn and barking at the birds that dared to land on the gate.

The backyard was surrounded by hedges to protect the intimacy of the long rectangular pool with crystalline water. There was also a tree with luscious foliage with a swing hanging from one of the branches that made Castiel wonder if Mrs. Masters had kids. He thought she’d mention she had a daughter, but would she be her only child? She said she lived alone, so perhaps they were all his age and had moved out? And what about her husband? It was a weird thing not to know about his boss, but now that he thought about it, at least at work, she didn’t keep any photographs or anything else that would give away details of her personal life.

The same principle seemed to apply here in her very own home. Mrs. Masters had turned the pool house into a home office, with a wall adorned top to bottom with shelves containing expensive hardcover editions. There were two armchairs, a small coffee table and a desk overflowing with papers, manuscripts, lighters, books, a couple of half-filled ashtrays and a pencil container full of the dreaded red pens.

He liked that bit of disorganization the most. Everything else in the yard and in the pool house spoke of spotless luxury, but that desk was where Mrs. Masters’ real work happened.

“Sit down,” she said, pointing to the arm chairs. “You want something to drink? I’ve got beer, soda, water…”

“Water is fine. Thank you.”

She rummaged through the mini fridge next to the desk while Castiel set down his backpack on his knees and opened it.

“So what have you been thinking of?” she asked without looking up from what she was doing.

“Well, I have talked to my sister and she said…” Castiel started but stopped, a little bit confused.

He had tried taking his notebook from inside of his backpack. But what he was holding wasn’t his computer; it was a grey rectangle with a cracked screen and a keyboard hanging from the end of the end of some loose cables.

“Oh. Oh, no. Hamlet!” Mrs. Masters exclaimed when she noticed why he had gone quiet. She left two water bottles on the table and stared at the broken notebook, cringing. “Shit. I am so sorry, Clarence.”

Castiel wanted to assure her it was fine and that she didn’t have to worry about it, but a lump had suddenly formed in his throat. That computer was old and slow and no longer supported any updates, but it had gotten him through his last two years of high school and all of college. With the money he was making now, he could probably afford a new one… if he sacrificed some non-essential items, like food. He put the computer down and fished around. At least his cellphone and his flash drive had somehow miraculously survived the ordeal.

“I… uh…” Castiel stammered.

Mrs. Masters picked up her own computer from the desk and put it down on the coffee table.

“I am really, truly sorry about this. Here, you can work on mine today and we’ll solve this on Monday, okay?”

“I…” Castiel started saying. He blinked a couple of times and then lifted his head at her. “I don’t know who Clarence is.”

That confused Mrs. Masters as much as it did him.

“What?”

“You keep calling me that. But I don’t know who Clarence is, and I know you know that’s not my name.”

They stared at each other in stunned silence for several seconds.

She broke down first. It started with a small chuckle that barely escaped her lips before she covered her mouth with her hand, as if she hadn’t meant to let it out at all. but then another one followed, a little louder this time and this prompted Castiel to laugh as well, because, well… because that was the most nonsensical thing he could have said in that situation.

Mrs. Masters flailed down on the unoccupied armchair, still laughing, throwing her head back. She looked different when she laughed. More relaxed. More human.

More beautiful.

The thought made him choke, because he had no right to be thinking about his boss in that way. He coughed a couple of times and reached for the water. Apparently this was hilarious, because Mrs. Masters laughed even harder, almost doubling over herself.

“Fuck,” she muttered, wiping her tears. “I hadn’t laughed that hard in a while.”

“Me neither,” Castiel admitted. He took a sip from the bottle and asked: “So, are you gonna tell me who Clarence is?”

He sort of expected her to get laughing again, but instead she simply grinned at him and pointed her computer.

“Let’s get to work, shall we?”

Her suggestions and points were just as poignant as the first time, but for some reason, Castiel started seeing exactly what she meant the more he re-read his text. She had a way with words that was more accurate and more enriching than anything the professors in charge of the workshops he had gone to had ever said to him.

“Obviously, the ending is the biggest problem, but you can figure that out later. For now, let’s focus on the earlier chapters. Perhaps don’t reveal so soon what exactly happened to Taylor…”

“I could move the reveal to chapter four,” Castiel suggested. “When she’s already on the road with the ghost.”

“Exactly. The reader has had more time to get used to them and the revelation would pack a bigger punch. But delete the graduation flashbacks, that’s exposition dump you can work on some other scene.”

“Very well. Should I delete the scene where Marin fights with her mother as well?”

“No, leave that in.”

Castiel slowly lifted his head to look at her. Mrs. Masters had his manuscript opened over her lap and she was chewing on a red pen, passing the pages almost distractedly.

“You don’t want me to delete it?” he asked. “Or change anything about it…?”

“I mean, you should change the dialogue to make it foreshadowing about Taylor,” she told him. “But there’s nothing wrong with the scene itself. It’s actually very moving.”

She turned another page. Castiel continued staring at her, his jaw hanging slightly loose, until she realized he wasn’t typing anymore.

“What’s the matter?”

“You… you said something nice about my writing,” Castiel explained.

“Uh… yes?” Mrs. Masters said with a laugh. “Am I not allowed to do that?”

“You’re allowed to do whatever you want, Mrs. Masters. I was just under the impression you didn’t like my book.”

This amused her, if the little chuckle she let out was anything to go by.

“Again, I never said that, Castiel,” she replied. “If I had hated it, I wouldn’t have invited you here so we can make it better.”

“So… you liked it?” Castiel insisted.

“You didn’t come to me for compliments, did you?” She shrugged.

That wasn’t exactly a direct response, but Castiel decided to drop the issue anyway. It was obvious she wasn’t going to give him a direct answer.

The hours slipped by unnoticed. As they went on, Castiel started making minor changes without Mrs. Masters having to tell him so: he changed a word that didn’t quite work or that cut the flow of a phrase he had though was brilliant. Mrs. Masters discussed scenes with him, but even though he agreed with her more often than not, she let him made the call on whether they should be deleted or moved.

He didn’t even notice the sun had fallen until he had to start squinting his eyes behind his glasses to look at the screen. At some point, Hamlet poked his head inside, with his ball between his teeth and whimpering softly, breaking their concentration.

“It’s that late?” Mrs. Masters asked, surprised.

She stood up to turn on the lights and stretched her arms above her head. Castiel’s eyes traveled down her uncovered back. He hadn’t noticed it before, but she wasn’t wearing a bra, but a bikini top. Of course, she had been swimming before he got there. He didn’t know why the thought caused a tingling sensation in his lower stomach, but he sure as hell hoped it didn’t show in his face when Mrs. Masters turned around to look at him.

“Do you want to stay for dinner? We can order a pizza, if you want.”

There was nothing in the world that Castiel would like more than to spend time with her and listen to her talk some more about points of view skews and badly applied adverbs. And precisely because of that, he felt he needed to reject her offer.

“That’s very kind of you, but actually I think I should be going home.”

“Okay.”

Her voice had a tinge of disappointment, or maybe that was what Castiel wanted to believe. She turned around, took the ball form Hamlet’s mouth and tossed it carelessly into the darkened yard. The Doberman bolted after it, yapping happily.

“Leave your broken computer. Maybe I can find someone to fix it.”

“You don’t have to do that…”

“Clarence, my dog broke it. It’s the least I can do,” she interrupted him. “Just leave it there.”

Castiel didn’t want to, not because the computer was anything but a piece of junk at that point, but because he knew there was a lot in it that he didn’t want to lose: early draft of short stories, outlines and pictures of his friends and family from back home that were all very personal. He had some of it stored in his flash drive, but not everything. He explained this to her.

“Even if it doesn’t have a solution, I wouldn’t want it to be thrown away.”

“I’ll make sure it doesn’t, then,” she assured him.

Castiel decided to trust her.

She picked up a pack of cigarette from the desk and turned one on while he accompanied to the gate. The smoke formed spirals into the clear spring night above their head.

“Well, this was fun,” she commented. “Same time next week?”

“Really?” Castiel asked, surprised. “I… we can do this again?”

Hamlet came running and Mrs. Masters tossed the ball away for him once more.

“Yes, of course. We still have a lot to go through. And you need to decide what you’re going to do about that ending.”

His stomach fluttered at the idea.

“Alright. Yes, I would love that. Thank you, Mrs. Masters.”

He had barely taken a step out the gate when she called him:

“Clarence.”

He looked over his shoulder. She was standing against the gate, her cigarette burning on her hand. The dying sun cast an orange halo around her dark hair.

“You can call me Meg.”

She closed the gate.

 

* * *

 

Castiel spent the better part of Sunday strangely agitated. It wasn’t his lack of computer or anything like that, since he was working for most of the day and if he needed a computer, he knew he could have asked Sam’s to lend him his. No, it wasn’t that he didn’t have anything to keep his mind occupied; it was that no matter how occupied his mind was, it inevitably slipped back to that moment the evening before: the sunset in her hair, the lit cigarette glowing dimly between her fingers. The slight smile when she’d asked him to call her by her first name.

He couldn’t shake the image. Her laughter kept echoing in his mind.

He stood underneath the water stream in the shower for far longer than he should have, thinking. Maybe it wasn’t Meg, precisely. Maybe it was that he had broken up with Daphne, his last girlfriend, more than a year ago and he was starting to crave a romantic relationship again. Maybe spending so much time with her and getting to know her away from their work environment was messing up with his mind.

He knew himself better than that, though. He never understood the poems that talked about seeing someone and falling for them at first sight. He didn’t do casual relationships or hookups. When he met someone, someone he really liked, it was never sexual. Not at the beginning, anyway.

And he liked Meg. He liked how strong and smart she was, he liked her fury and fierceness, he liked the softness she kept hidden underneath. He liked that he could talk to her about his book and all sorts of other books, he liked that she was experienced and brutally honest.

He put on his old grey shirt and sweatpants before coming out of the bathroom, fished his journal from underneath the futon and hesitated with the pen over the page. His short stories and novels he preferred writing in his computer, but when he felt a poem coming up, he preferred to write by hand. It was more personal, somehow.

He worked for an hour, uninterrupted, chewing on the pen when a word refused to find its place, scribbling down his ideas without much rhyme or reason and crossing out verses that didn’t flow the way he wanted them to. That would come later; for now, he just needed visuals and metaphors, the best way to describe everything he had seen in Meg since he first met her.

He ended up comparing her to a storm, something powerful and sublime and mysterious that left him completely awestruck, wondering if she would pass him by without raining down on him or if it would blow straight into him and destroy him completely.

It was more than adequate.

When he closed his journal, though, he knew the answer. She was his boss. She was twenty years his senior. If she wanted to date someone, she would probably choose an interesting man who already had his life together, not some idiot kid still figuring himself out and who could offer her literally nothing. His crush on her was more than inappropriate and it would go nowhere.

That didn’t mean he couldn’t dream, though.

 

* * *

 

He found Meg in the elevator the following day. That was an odd occurrence. She either always came in a few minutes later or (usually) a few minutes earlier. This time, she was already standing there by the time Castiel came rushing in through the doors and awkwardly found a place among all the people crowding up the place. She still noticed him, her brown eyes flying directly at him, but she couldn’t say hello until the elevator had stopped a couple of times, getting emptier every time.

After the third stop, she managed to scoot closer to him.

“Hello, Clarence,” she greeted him. Again she was wearing her hair tied up and her most professional pencil skirt and heels. Castiel could have believed she was completely different woman than he had met on Saturday if it wasn’t for what she said next: “I spoke with Ash from IT. He says he’s going to try to fix it. In the meantime, I was thinking you could take the laptop we issued you home. If you promise to care of it, of course.”

“Oh. That is… very kind of you.”

The door opened once more and the rest of the people left, leaving the two of them completely alone at last. Castiel’s hands were suddenly very itchy and he had to resist the urge to pull from the collar of his shirt. His boss remained as calm and collected as before until they finally reached their floor. She exited in long strides, with Castiel trotting miserably behind her.

She started giving instructions as soon as she cross the door:

“Remind me to call Gordon and tell him his selections have been approves and they should be sent to the graphic designing department. Ask them to give you the agencies and the authors’ contact info so you can email them a congratulations note from Fitzgerald and Masters…”

“Uh… me?” Castiel asked, blinking. That wasn’t usually part of his daily tasks.

“I would do it myself, but I still have a lot of manuscripts to read,” she sighed. “I trust you can write something that sounds warm but not too informal, yes?”

“Yes, of course.” Castiel stopped by his desk, watching her back as she headed for her office door. “Umh… Meg,” he called out and immediately cringed. “Can I call you Meg here?”

She looked over her shoulder at him, smiling.

“Only when no one can hear you,” she said.

Dammit, she looked so pretty when she smiled.

“I just… wanted to thank you again. For the opportunity to work with you.”

He sounded like an idiot and he knew it. But he just needed her to know exactly how much it all meant to him.

She chuckled softly.

“Don’t sweat it, Clarence. Also, be a darling and bring me a coffee, please.”

 

* * *

 

It was certainly strange how easily Castiel got used to this new relationship with her. At work, she continued to be Mrs. Masters, working with the same tenacity and restlessness that had allowed her to climb the ranks in the editorial. She ordered Castiel around as usual: making calls for her, sending emails, ordering him to bring her coffee. Like not a single thing had changed, and Castiel figured it really hadn’t.

But on the weekends… on the weekends she was Meg. She wore sundresses or shorts and sometimes she walked barefoot on the ground with Hamlet always at her heels. She laughed whenever Castiel dared to make a joke and in between breaks in the editions, they talked about the most inconsequential things.

Well, Castiel had the impression that he talked and Meg just listened. Even though when they were working they could sit side by side in silence for hours on end. However, when they stood up to make a break, to stretch their muscles (“Stating still for so long isn’t good for you, Clarence”) or to have a drink from the mini bar, Castiel felt compelled to fill the silence. He had been told in the past that his quietness was awkward and strange and he didn’t want Meg to think so as well.

He told her about his father, who was also a writer and had instilled his love for book and stories at an early age. He talked about his mother, who was very strict and rarely cracked a smile, but she had a beautiful voice and was part of the choir from their church. He told her briefly about the accident that had claimed both their lives when he was still a teenager and how his sister, Hannah, barely out of her teens herself, had dropped everything to come back to their tiny close-minded hometown and support him while he finished up his studies.

“She is my best friend and my biggest source of inspiration,” Castiel said. “She hates it there, but she stayed because of me. Sometimes I think it’s out of guilt. My mother and her had a huge fight before she left for college.”

“What was the fight about?” Meg asked him, catching him by surprise.

He had been babbling for so long that he had almost started to think she wasn’t listening. But she was staring at him intently with her big brown eyes, leaning back in her arm chair and holding her glass of lemonade up, as if she had been about to take a sip but had interrupted herself to ask that question.

“Well… my sister’s sexuality,” Castiel explained. “My mother was very religious, as I told you, so she had a hard time… being accepting when Hannah came out. Their relationship was never the same and well… Hannah still believes our mother was mad at her before she died.”

“So the book is about your sister and you.”

The asseveration came so strong that Castiel was almost startled by it.

“N-No!” he stammered. “I mean, obviously I drew inspiration from my own relationship with her for Marin and her brother, but it’s not _about_ us…”

Meg did something very strange. She stretched her and over her armchair and placed it ever so lightly on Castiel’s forearm. It startled him enough that he stopped talking and focused all of her attention on her.

“Listen to me, I haven’t met a single writer who didn’t put a little bit of themselves in their books. Well, I have, but they were bad writers,” she corrected herself with a shrug. “I didn’t say the characters were based on you and your sister. I said it’s about you and her. It’s about guilt and it’s about grief, two things that have marked your life. Maybe that’s why you’re struggling to find an honest ending for it.”

Castiel was still listening to her words, but he also found himself staring at her lips and the shapes they formed with every word she spoke. They were mesmerizing and especially when she smile.

Her hand moved away from him and she stood up, breaking the spell and leaving him gasping as if he’d just come out for air after a long time underwater.

“Do you want some lemonade?”

She never let him go inside of the house. Castiel offered every time to get the platter for her or to help her get whatever it was that she was preparing, but she never accepted. In the same vein, he always offered him to have takeout or dinner with her, especially on days when he stayed until the sun set down, but Castiel turned her down every time. He wasn’t sure if she really wanted him to stay or if she was just being polite, but it didn’t matter. It was good to have boundaries. Boundaries reminded him that no matter how fascinating, how intelligent and how beautiful she was, there were some insurmountable differences between the two of them.

And it was fine. The boundaries are work were cut and clear, so he didn’t have to think about them. It was easy to be reminded of who Mrs. Masters was.

But sometimes he sneaked glances at Meg to catch her doing something silly, like petting Hamlet with her feet or chewing on her pen, sometimes she looked so concentrated or so tired when she thought Castiel wasn’t looking at her and sometimes her laughter was so melodic… well, in those occasions, he needed to be reminded of the boundaries.

It was a nice routine he had fallen into. He asked Jody and Donna to give him the Sunday shifts permanently so he could spend Saturdays with Meg. He worked his two jobs with an ease he didn’t have before. He wrote a handful of words every night before he went to sleep or corrected his novel so Meg could see the changes as they progressed every week.

Despite his personal feelings, it was working great.

And then one day, only a few days into June, all the boundaries he had been trying to maintain went to hell.

Jo Harvelle came in stumbling under another pile of manuscripts that needed Meg’s approval, so Castiel rushed to help her put them in his desk before she stumbled and fell under the sheer weight.

“Thank you,” she huffed and rubbed her back in a comically exaggerated manner. “These bones aren’t what they used to.”

“Perhaps you should try eating yogurt. Calcium is good for your bones.”

Jo let out a soft sigh and threw her blonde hair back. She then stood on her toes to look over Castiel’s shoulder.

“She out?” she asked, in a soft whisper.

“She’s on a meeting with… I don’t even know. Someone. She should be back in an hour. Do you need anything?”

Jo looked around as if to make double sure that they were the only people in the office and even then she stood closer to Castiel and lowered her voice as if she was going to relate a secret to him.

“Well… you know Mrs. Masters’ birthday is Friday of next week, right?”

“I didn’t know that,” Castiel admitted, a little surprised. Meg hadn’t brought it up and she didn’t seem to have made any plans for the occasion.

“Well, Mr. Fitzgerald wants to throw her a party,” Jo continued. “So he sent me on a mission to find out if she had any plans that night.”

“Alright. How are we going to do that?”

Jo stared at him until Castiel realized he was supposed to be the source of that information.

“Well, I’ll double check and let you know.”

“Yes, do that.” Jo nodded. “It’d be interesting, you know? Most of the people here know of Mrs. Masters, but I swear I’m one of the few who has actually seen her. The woman is like a cryptid.”

“No, I would say she’s very pleasant to the eyes.”

Jo looked at him quizzically and then burst out a chuckle.

“Good one!” she said, punching Castiel softly in the shoulder. “You’re a real funny guy.”

Castiel didn’t consider himself “funny”. More often than not, he just said whatever it was on his mind and people around him found it funny for some reason. He didn’t explain that to Jo as she left.

He sat down, opened his borrowed computer and took a long hard look at his finances. He had already paid for most of the bills (his third of the rent, his fourth of the Internet connection, his entire pone bill) so he had a little money left over for the first time in what felt like an eternity. He had been saving it up to buy himself something nice, but maybe…

What kind of thing he could give Meg? She was a very elegant woman so tacky jewelry or perfumes wouldn’t do. He could give her a pretty scarf or gloves, but they lived in California, so how many chances would she have to wear it? It wasn’t like he needed her to wear them, but… it would be nice if she did and thought of him.

Sunglasses, maybe?

He could also give the easy route and buy her a book, but she was an editor, she read books all the time and she could buy any she wanted.

And that was just the thing. Meg had everything. How could he buy a gift for someone who had everything?

The elevator’s ping brought him back to reality and he quickly closed the page he was looking at as Meg walked past his desk.

“Bring me a coffee, please, Clarence.”

Castiel hurried to make it and then into her office. Meg was already looking through the stacks he had left on her couch. She looked extremely tired at the prospect, but she still raised her eyes and smiled at him when he put the coffee down on her desk.

“Thank you. You’re a darling.”

Castiel tried not to think about how much he perked up at the fact she had given him a compliment. Had she always been this nice or had she started being so because now they were friends? Because… they were friends, right? That was what they were. So buying her a present for her birthday wasn’t odd. It was what friends did.

Meg took a sip of her coffee and rubbed her eyes as if she was really tired. She turned around and seemed surprised that Castiel was still standing on his office.

“Is there anything else?”

Castiel considered taking a roundabout approach to trying to find out what she was doing for her birthday, but decided that Meg would see through it in five seconds flat. So instead, he just related to her what Jo had said about Mr. Fitzgerald and the surprise party.

She didn’t seem surprised at all.

“Every year,” she sighed. “Garth is not nearly as slick as he think he is.”

“What should I tell his assistant?”

Meg leaned against her desk and sipped her coffee, pensively.

“Tell her I’m going out of town to spend time with my daughter that weekend.”

“Are you?” Castiel asked, narrowing his eyes. Because if she was, that meant he had to buy her present so he could give it to her before Saturday…

Meg shrugged and turned her attention to the manuscripts.

“You want to help me with that?”

“What?”

“With the manuscripts, Cas.”

“No, I-I… of course you meant that,” Castiel said, looking at her closely. “It’s just… you really would trust me with that?”

“Why not? It’s a lot to read. You’re my assistant, you’re supposed to assist me.”

“But…”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m just the last pair of eyes that need to read it before it goes into print,” she explained. “It’s not hard. You just have to read and see if anything comes at you. You might learn a thing two.”

That was a huge responsibility she was sharing with him, even more so than sending congratulatory emails to writers and agencies. And she was right as always: he could learn how to present his book to an editorial, what they were looking for and what they had done to make it all the way up to Meg’s desk. This was what his internship was supposed to be about, right? Learning the business.

He still hesitated until Meg patted the empty pace next to her on the couch. Castiel picked a manuscript from the pile randomly and sat down, still a bit nervous.

“Uh… I don’t get a red pen to make notes?” he asked.

Meg looked at him with amusement.

“Oh, you have to earn the red pen,” she replied with a chuckle. “Now, get to reading.”

It was much better than fetching coffee and making calls to cancel appointments. If only because he spent the afternoon next to Meg, their arms barely grazing against one another as they turned the pages in silence. He tried to concentrate on the soon to be published novel (a thriller about a retired detective trying to catch an old serial killer. It was nothing exciting and he figured out the plot twist by chapter four) but now and then, he sneaked glances at her. As usual she was deeply concentrated on what she was doing, chewing on the pen or toying with it between her fingers as she marked some stuff.

At some point, she rubbed the back of her neck, a little grimace of pain showing in her lips.

“You need help with that?” Castiel asked and immediately bit his tongue when she looked at him. He was supposed to be reading, not paying such close attention to her.

“It’s okay. I always get neck pain,” she said. “I’ll just have to call my masseur and set up an appointment.”

“Maybe I could help,” Castiel offered. “So you’re not in pain right now?”

She stared at him silently for a second or two, considering.

“Alright, Clarence,” she agreed in the end, kicking her shoes so she could kneel on the couch with her back turned to him. “Give it a shot.”

Castiel suddenly regretted opening his mouth, but it was too late to back down now. He scooted closer to her and gently put her hands on her shoulders. She was always so imposing in her heels, but suddenly under his hands she felt very little. He wondered what she would feel like if he could hug her and…

No. He crushed those thoughts and focused on gently rubbing Meg’s muscles. They were stiff and more than a little hard under his fingers.

“A little higher,” she instructed him. “And come on, Cas, you can do better than that.”

Castiel followed her instructions and raised his hands to her neck. He pressed tighter and Meg let out a sigh.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re doing great,” she encouraged him. “Keep it up. This is actually helping.”

Castiel pressed tighter and Meg let out another sigh, longer and a little louder this time. She notably relaxed between his hands, her position much looser and her breathing becoming calmer and deeper. Castiel pressed his fingers again and… Meg moaned.

It was such a primal, deep, sound of pure pleasure and Castiel’s mind went straight to the gutter.

Meg looked at him with confusion when he let go of her.

“Is there something wrong?”

“No!” Castiel exclaimed. “I just… I need to… use the bathroom.”

“Use mine,” Meg said, pointing at the steel door in her office corner. “It’ll be faster that if you walk all the way down the hall.”

Castiel thanked her and walked as quickly as the sudden tightness in his pants allowed him to. God, he hoped she hadn’t noticed. This was so embarrassing; he wasn’t some teenager who couldn’t control his urges, dammit.

But she was so beautiful and he could still feel the softness of her skin underneath his fingertips and…

He filled the sink with cold water and sank his face in it for as long as he could hold his breath.

She was his boss. There were boundaries. He needed to respect them.

He emerged from the water, panting, and stared at himself in the mirror.

This was going to become a problem.


	4. Chapter 4

The mall didn’t exactly offered a lot of interesting options for presents, but with Castiel’s price range and the limited time he had to actually dedicate to the matter, it wasn’t like he could get too picky. He roamed around the stores, looking for something that would speak of Meg, something elegant and pretty and not too expensive, but it seemed like those categories tended to be mutually exclusive.

Not to mention he was completely at lost as to what she could possibly need. Now that he noticed it, he knew very little of Meg the person. He knew Mrs. Masters, his boss, and Meg, his editor, who was always pushing him to do better. But of Meg herself, it had been very little what he could actually discover. She had a dog. She had a daughter, but he had no idea how old she was or why she didn’t live with Meg. He didn’t know what books Meg read in her spare time or if she was just burnt out from reading at work and preferred movies or music instead and if so, what kind.

He didn’t know her at all and it was ridiculous, he thought as he sat down on an ice cream parlor and ate the smallest and cheapest cone they offered. It was ridiculous that he had such a crush on her; that his body reacted to every little thing she did. It was ridiculous that he couldn’t name any of her interests and still found himself fascinating by her. He had a crush on the carefully constructed image of herself that Meg showed to the world and to him.

The only time, perhaps, that he had caught a glimpse of the real Meg had been over a month back, when he had seen her silently weeping in her office after fighting with someone on the phone.

That was not a good image to have.

He should make a little more of an effort, if he really wanted to be her friend and not just her employee and… protégé? Was that the right word? He had started seeing her as a sort of mentor, but maybe she just thought of him as a kid who continued to bug her until his book was ready. But in any case, he should try harder, to know her, to catch another glance of who hid behind those walls.

Perhaps that would even help with his crush.

Castiel finished his cone, wondering if Meg would like ice cream. He could ask about her favorite flavors the next time he saw her. But for now, it was fine if he bought her something a little more impersonal. It was the thought that counted. Perhaps a nice diary where to write all her appointments or even an elegant pen.

With renewed energy, he started walking up and down the mall again, adjusting his criteria to the objects in the shop-windows he had already passed by. Maybe he should just get something symbolic and pretty, a token for her to keep…

He stopped in front of a toy store. There was a large display of plush toys, big and small, all huddle in a big great pile, but one of them caught his eyes.

It was silly. He didn’t know why it made her think of her. She probably would end up giving it away to a hospital or something.

But it was better than any idea that he’d had all day.

 

* * *

 

The following Friday, Meg’s birthday, didn’t seem to be any different than any other day at the office. Castiel arrived at the same hour as Meg and they rode the elevator together after greeting each other.

“Has Ash called you?” she asked.

“Ash?” Castiel repeated and then he remembered. “Oh. No, I haven’t heard from him.”

“That’s odd. I gave him your number to call you when your computer is ready. Remind me to check up on what’s going on with that,” Meg said.

They arrived on their floor and Castiel followed her to her office as she began to recite her usual list of instructions:

“… call Gordon to tell him that, and also call Serra and tell her that I leave the Marvin Tron’s release party entirely to them, but to please not hire the same organizer as when we released Guy’s latest book, ‘cause that was a disaster.”

“Noted,” Castiel said. “Anything else?”

Meg hesitated on the entrance to her office.

“If a girl named Ruby calls, transfer the call the directly,” she told him. “No matter where I am or what I’m doing, okay? But for anyone else, I’m unavailable.”

“Of course. Uhm… Mrs. Masters?” he called, but she was already strutting in and disappearing inside.

Well, it would just have to wait until later, then.

The rest of the day was much like any other day. He picked up some calls (“No, Mrs. Masters is busy. Yes, I will let her know”) but none from this Ruby person Meg was waiting for. After the lunch break (that Castiel had at his desk, like every other day) a tall man in a tan suit with a bouquet of roses strutted directly towards her office. Castiel was so startled by the confidence with which he walked that he didn’t he didn’t even manage to mutter “Excuse me!” before he was already bursting into Meg’s office.

He followed him quickly and managed to see the moment he laid the roses on Meg’s desk with a smile.

“Happy birthday, dear Marjorie!” he said.

Meg seemed as startled by this guy as Castiel had been. She looked at him over his shoulder and all he could do was shrug apologetically. She recovered herself enough and flashed a polite smile at the guy.

“Thank you, Garth,” she said. “It’s… most thoughtful.”

Garth. This was Garfield Fitzgerald IV, the company’s CEO and technically Meg’s boss. Which explained why he could burst in there without Meg chewing his head off.

He looked younger than Castiel expected, maybe in his mid-thirties or so. His movements were lively: he pulled the chair Meg had for visitors (that up until that moment Castiel wasn’t sure it was ever used), pulled it in front of her desk and straddled it as he beamed at Meg.

“So, I know you said you would be busy this weekend, but how about you and me have dinner and then I drive you to the airport?”

It was a strange sight: Meg, who was usually so sure of herself and so confident, actually seemed flustered for a moment. She looked around as if she was looking for a way out or maybe that was the impression Castiel got until her eyes fell on him.

“Clarence, do you mind putting these on water?”

Castiel picked up the flowers and resisted the impulse to look over his shoulder as he marched to the kitchen and looked for something that could pass for a vase. He found a jar with fresh water and gently placed the roses inside. There was a card among them and after a few seconds deciding whether it constituted an invasion of privacy, he picked it up and read it.

_For Meg, the most beautiful of the bunch. Love, Garth._

Flowers. Why the hell hadn’t Castiel thought of that?

And why hadn’t it occurred to him that Meg probably had a long line of suitors that could take her out to fancy restaurants and buy her perfect red roses just whenever? Of course she did. She was beautiful and smart and a little scary, but of course there would be men falling like flies at her feet.

And it had never occurred to him up until that moment, but “Garfield Fitzgerald IV” was a pretentious name and only a major prick would be in possession of it and he really hoped Mr. Fitzgerald stepped on a carpet and fell flat on his face on the way out.

Castiel returned to his desk, settled the flowers down and started furiously typing in his computer, willing himself not to look at the office and what was going on inside it.

He didn’t really have to. A few seconds later, Mr. Fitzgerald emerged with his hands on his pockets and stopped to gaze sadly at the flowers.

“Kicked to the curb again,” he sighed.

“I’m… sorry?” Castiel said, because he didn’t know why Mr. Fitzgerald was telling him that. But his boss’ boss interpreted as if he was expressing his condolences, because he smiled at him and grabbed one of the roses.

“I don’t know what the hell her ex-husband was thinking,” he commented, breaking the rose stem and placing it in the front pocket of his jacket. “And I might be a fool for asking her, but what’s a man gotta do? She’s just… something else, you know?”

Castiel blinked at him, still unsure what to make of this entire conversation.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “I… think so.”

Mr. Fitzgerald sighed softly and walked away. Castiel felt a little bad for having thought all those awful thing about him. After all, if Meg had gone out to have dinner with him, what would have been the difference? Castiel have absolutely no right to be upset about it, because Meg was his boss but absolutely nothing else.

He needed to get a damn grip.

When he walked into the office with the jar-turned-vase, Meg was staring at her computer screen with a thumb between her lips. She immediately removed it and beckoned him to get closer.

“Just put those there, please,” she instructed him, pointing at the coffee table. “Has anyone called?”

“Well, Mrs. Saige called and said…” Castiel started, but Meg interrupted him:

“Has Ruby called?”

“No,” he answered, and then added hastily: “I’m sorry.”

“That’s fine, Castiel,” she said. “Just… go back to work.”

Castiel did as she instructed, even though something in the tone of her voice was… off. She didn’t sound like it didn’t matter whether this Ruby person called or not. He looked through her phonebook (not because he was planning to invade her privacy some more by finding this Ruby and telling her to call), but he didn’t find anybody by that name.

The day ended without anything else remarkable happening. Castiel checked the clock and then checked into the office. Meg was still working on her computer and making no attempts to leave. So, it was now or never. He picked up the bag he had kept hidden under his desk all day and discreetly knocked on her door.

Immediately, he realized something was wrong. The eyes that Meg raised up to him were red and puffy, as if she was holding back tears. Her voice still sounded firm when she talked:

“Oh, Cas. Are you heading out?”

He thought about lying and trying to pretend like he didn’t see how upset she was. She obviously didn’t want him to mention it, so he needed to be discreet…

“Are you okay?”

He felt the immediate impulse of kicking himself. Meg took off her glasses and quickly wiped her eyes.

“Yeah, it’s… I just got a bit of the birthday blues, you know?” She chuckled to herself. “Of course you don’t know. How old are you again? Twenty three?”

“I’ll turn twenty five on October.”

“Right,” Meg sighed. For some reason, she sounded a little frustrated.

Castiel decided to stop beating around the bush. He walked towards her desk and gently left her present there. Meg’s eyes widened and then she lifted them up at him.

“Happy birthday.”

Meg picked up the bag and Castiel felt the blood rushing to his cheek. Couldn’t she wait until he was out of there?

“I-It’s just a little something,” he stammered. “It’s… it’s silly, just… I wanted to give you a gift… and I couldn’t figure out…”

Meg pulled it out of the bag and Castiel felt more than ever that he wanted the earth to open up and swallow him. His present was a bee plushie with a little crown that held a heart with the words “You Are My Queen” in it. It was stupid. He never should have bought it or he should have bought something a little more sophisticated than that.

“You don’t have to… keep it,” he mumbled.

He barely noticed the fact that she had stood up and walked around her desk until she was practically standing in front of him.

“I love it,” she said. “It’s adorable.”

She was smiling, smiling sincerely and she looked a lot more relaxed than before.

“Oh.” Castiel let the relief wash over him and smiled back at her. She was so close that he could easily throw his arms around her and pulled her closer and the fact he was thinking that was a clear sign he needed to back away. He stayed right where he was, staring into her enormous brown eyes, thinking how she looked so beautiful even then. “Well… I’m glad. I…”

Meg put a hand on the back of his head and pushed his head down.

It was so easy. Like stepping over an edge he had been skirting for so long, like letting gravity grab a hold of him and do the rest.

Meg’s lips were soft and warm against him. Barely a graze, barely a peck, but his heart began racing and his knees trembled. She backed down a second later. She started saying something, but Castiel didn’t listen. He didn’t want to listen. He wanted to go back to what they were doing, because now he was falling and he didn’t want to stop.

So this time it was him who leaned down to kiss her, finally letting himself do what he had been fantasizing on for so long: hold her tight against his chest, an arm around her waist and the other tangled in her hair as soon as he managed to undo the clip that hold it in a bun. She responded in kind, throwing her arms around his neck, her knees brushing softly against his.

It was even better than he had dared to imagine. It was warm and messy and dizzying and Castiel lost notion of time, he lost the notion of where they were and who they were. He had never wanted anything like he wanted her right now and…

He made a mistake. He moved to take a step closer to the desk. That was enough to break the spell: Meg’s hand came to rest on his shoulder and slowly pushed him away. She stared at him, eyes wide open and red again. Castiel tried to catch his breath, to say something, anything, but she fled his arms before he could.

“I’m sorry, that was… I’m sorry,” she muttered. She grabbed her purse and headed for the door incredibly fast.

“Meg…” he called her, but she put a hand up before he could even get close to her again.

“I just… I need to…” she stammered, but she shook her head and left the office without finishing that sentence or sparing him another glance.

Castiel stayed where he was, cold and disconcerted, until the echo of her heels against the floor quieted down.

 

* * *

 

He spent the rest of the night in a state of utter anxiety. He kept getting orders mixed-up or not quite right, he broke a mug and two hours into his shift, he burned his hand on the espresso machine and caused a commotion when he jumped backwards and knocked down the muffins.

Luckily for him, Jody and Donna were there to cover him. Jody took his place behind the counter and apologized to everyone for the disturbance while Donna ushered him away to the bathroom’s employee so he could put his hand under cold water.

“What’s the matter with you today, Cas? You’re not normally this clumsy.”

“I…” Castiel started, but he didn’t even know how to finish that sentence. _‘I kissed my other boss, who I have a crush on and I’m over the moon, but also very, very confused. And I can’t stop thinking about it’_.

Luckily for him, Donna decided she didn’t need an explanation. She told him to go home and that he would make up for the rest of his shift some other time.

So Castiel did that, but he still ended up getting home late because he missed his bus stop.

Sam, Dean and a bearded guy with a blue beret were on the table, with beers and poker chips spread out in front of them.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean greeted him. “This is Benny, from upstairs.”

“Nice to meet ya’,” Benny said, without taking his eyes off of his cards.

“Umh… hello,” Castiel muttered. He had planned on lying down on his couch/bed and staring at the silence, hoping for an epiphany on what to do or say about what had happened with Meg, but with the guys playing poker in the living room…

Sam realized, though, because he took one look at him and he asked: “Are you okay? Do you want us to go? We can move the game to Benny’s apartment.”

“Well…”

“What happed to your hand?” Dean asked.

Castiel looked down to see the red spot that had appeared over his knuckles.

“I… I burnt it…”

“I got a cream for that,” Benny said, folding his cards and standing up. “Let me go get it.”

“That won’t be necessary…”

“Take a seat, buddy,” Dean invited him as Sam pulled a fourth chair next to the table. “You look like you had a rough night.”

Castiel hadn’t really realized until that point just how isolated he really was since he’d moved to Palo Alto. The only people he really talked to were his sister and Meg, and well, he didn’t think this was an issue that he could discuss with either of them. But when Sam, Dean and Benny asked him what happened to him while offering him a beer, Castiel broke down and told them. He omitted the part about “the girl’s” identity, but he told them all the rest.

“I don’t know what I did,” Castiel said, rubbing more of Benny’s cream over his burnt hand. (It really was helping soothe the pain. The physical one, at least). “I… I didn’t mean to upset her.”

The other three exchanged looks, as if they were trying to find something to tell him. Castiel appreciated it, but he appreciated it more that they had listened to him at all. He was about to say that when Dean leaned back on his chair.

“Well, that’s tough luck,” he said, taking a sip from his beer. “Better move on to the next one.”

“You have the sensitivity of a tea spoon, suga’,” Benny commented, rolling his eyes. “Look at this kid. He’s in love. There ain’t any moving on happening here anytime soon.”

Castiel shuddered. He had accepted he had a crush on Meg, but what Benny was saying… that was a complete different level he wasn’t sure he was ready to face.

“But she’s definitely being a tease,” Dean argued. “ _She_ kissed _him_ and then she just ran away? I say that’s grounds for losing her number. Help me out, here, Sammy.”

“No, I’m actually with Benny on this. You’re an insensitive ass,” Sam replied. Dean made an offended face, but his brother ignored him as he turned to Cas. “You can’t just assume you did something wrong. Maybe there’s something else going on with her life.”

“I think she has been through a… break-up recently,” Castiel said, barely stopping himself from saying “divorce”.

“Well, there you go,” Benny said, rising his hand as if that solved everything. “It had nothing to do with you, so you can stop looking all down in the dumps.”

“I mean… perhaps,” Castiel accepted. “But if that is the case…”

“You should just talk to her, Cas,” Sam suggested. “Tell her how you feel.”

“Yeah, I think she gave you the green light for that,” Benny added.

Castiel shifted in his chair. The mere thought of talking to Meg after what happened made him uncomfortable. He looked over at Dean, who had initially suggested not to address the issue.

“You work with her, right?” he asked. “Yeah, you’re gonna have to do that. Otherwise it can blow in your face big time next time you see her.”

He pushed a beer bottle towards him. Castiel gulped down half of it without breathing.

 

* * *

 

The following day, Castiel checked his phone nervously, but there was no incoming message from Meg telling him not to go to her house. Castiel waited until it was almost the hour in  which he usually left and then headed for the door… and hesitated.

What if she didn’t want to see him? What if she didn’t even open the door for him?

Perhaps it was best he stayed. He sat on the kitchen and immediately second-guessed that choice too. He had to talk to her. After spending much of the previous night drinking and playing cards with his friends and then not sleeping a wink, he had decided they were right. He had to tell Meg how he felt. He had to know what the hell that kissed had meant.

Because every time he closed his eyes he could still feel her taste on his tongue, the softness of her hair in his fingertips…

It was best if they discussed it in private, he decided as he rode the bus. It was better to do it now, before Monday. Meg had great respect for her work place and she would certainly not want to talk about that sort of thing in private.

He still spent five minutes, lifting and lowering his hand in front of her door, unable to bring himself to ring the intercom.

If she didn’t want to see him, that meant this was the end of everything: their friendship, her help with his book, those quite moments they had shared together in her home office. She could even fire him. And then what? Should he just go back home with his tail between his legs and admit he blew up his chance of getting his dream job because he couldn’t keep his hands to himself?

Well, there was no point in waiting. He swallowed and pushed the intercom button.

Nothing happened. He could hear Hamlet barking and running at the other side of the fence. Maybe she was in the pool or on the house and hadn’t heard him. Well, this was a perfect chance for him to back away and run. Perhaps the last one he would have.

He was debating whether to run or to ring again when the gate let out its familiar squeak and slowly began to open. Hamlet came running at him, wagging his tail and barking. He stood on his hind legs to try to lick his face.

“Good boy,” Castiel said, absent-mindedly patting him in the head.

He could see Meg standing in the doorway, staring in his direction. As soon as Hamlet was done greeting him, Castiel took a deep breath and walked towards her. The gate closed behind him with a thud.

There definitely was no escaping now.

Meg didn’t ask him to come in or indicated they should go to her office, like she usually did. She just looked at him with a silent apprehension, standing in the doorway in complete silence. She was wearing a purple robe and her hair was damp, falling in messy curls around her shoulders.

Castiel’s breath hitched and he had to remind himself what he had come here to do.

“Hello,” he greeted her, tentatively.

Meg still didn’t ask him to come in.

“You… I thought you wouldn’t show up today,” she said. Castiel didn’t know if that was an apology or a statement of fact.

“I almost didn’t,” he admitted. It was a relief that she at least looked as disconcerted as he felt and that gave him a little bit of courage. “We should talk.”

“Do we have to?” She cringed. “Is it too much to hope we can pretend nothing happened?”

Castiel couldn’t say that reaction was completely unexpected. Of course she was going to regret and try to forget it. But still…

“I don’t think I can do that, Meg.”

“Of course not,” she sighed and beckoned him inside.

It was strange. He had been coming to see her for weeks, but this was truly the first time he was in the main house. It didn’t surprise him to find it was as luxurious as its outward appearance suggested, but the beige and silver colors and the lavish decoration surprised him. The living room had a chandelier, a widescreen TV mounted on the wall and a coffee table with a crystal ashtray in the form of a swan resting in it. It was beautiful, but sterile, like sitting in the lobby of a hotel. The only things that really spoke of Meg was a ragged chew toy that Hamlet had almost completely torn apart and a shelf with hardcover editions and a picture frames.

Castiel stood around nervously while Meg moved in the kitchen next to him, debating whether it would be an invasion of her privacy to take a closer look at them. In the end, he decided that if they were on display, they were meant to be seen by visitors, so he approached them.

One showed a picture of Meg and a man with blond hair, standing together with the Eiffel Tower behind them. Another one had that same man, hugging a girl with black hair dressed in black robes with a graduation cap, the both of them smiling at the camera as the girl held a diploma up high.

The sound of Meg coming out of the kitchen startled him. She had put on her white sundress, but he could still see the straps of her bikini around her neck. She lowered the platter she was carrying that had a jar of lemonade and two glasses in it. Castiel immediately moved to fill them, but neither of them grab one as they sat together in the couch.

“So…” Meg started. She closed her eyes for a moment, and when she opened them again to stare directly at him, she looked more than ever like Mrs. Masters. “First of all, let me apologize. As your boss, what I did was extremely inappropriate and it crossed several boundaries. I shouldn’t have, and I’m sorry.”

It sounded like she had rehearsed the words in her head several times. Castiel was so taken aback by her directness he found no words to say when she paused, so after a few seconds she continued:

“Of course, I understand if this makes things awkward for you in any way or form. If you don’t want to work as my assistant anymore, I will make sure to oversee that you’re transfer to another department where you can be more comfortable…”

“Meg,” he interrupted her, finally finding his words. “Stop. I didn’t come here to talk to my boss.”

She opened her mouth and closed it again. She seemed genuinely disconcerted. Castiel gathered all the courage he could muster.

“I… I have feelings for you,” he said. His face suddenly felt like it was on fire, but he forced himself to keep on speaking: “And I wasn’t going to say anything, but last night you kissed me and it made me wonder…”

Meg stood up suddenly and walked away from the couch. She remained with her back turned to him for several seconds, rubbing her temples, before she turned to him. Her expression was indecipherable.

“Cas, I’m old enough to be your mother,” she declared.

“I am aware.” Castiel pulled from the helm of his shirt nervously. He had never in his life had felt more insignificant or more inadequate, but he had already said more than he’d intended when he came there. He might as well say everything that was in his mind: “I don’t know what you could possibly see in someone like me. I don’t know what I could offer to you, that you would need or want from me. But I admire you greatly and I think you’re so beautiful and I just want to…”

“That’s not what I meant,” she cut him off.

Castiel blinked. She stood against the wall with her arms crossed over her chest. She seemed so serious and quiet. Like she was evaluating him. After a moment, she looked away and Castiel figured he had said enough.

“If you want me to leave, I will do that now,” he said, standing up. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have mentioned it and I won’t do it again.”

He headed for the door, not as fast as he would have wanted to. He didn’t want her to think that he was fleeing, even though that was exactly what he was doing. He had been so stupid. She probably thought he was an immature, idiot, complete mess…

“Wait,” she called him. “Clarence, wait.”

Castiel turned around just as she walked up to him. Without another word, she put her arms around his neck and pulled him down.

The same feeling of desire and urgency invaded him as their lips met again. She broke away, her expression filled with amazement as if she couldn’t believe she had done that. After a few seconds, she smiled softly, put her hands on his cheeks and kissed him again, and again, and again, until they were both out of breath.

Castiel leaned his forehead against her. The knot in his stomach had dissolved in a pleasant flutter and every doubt, every feeling of embarrassment that had plagued him was suddenly obliterated as he looked into her eyes.

She did want him.

And really, everything else was secondary.


	5. Chapter 5

The smoke of Meg’s cigarette formed spirals in the air. They were sitting outside now, because she had insisted she needed some air (ironic, since she had immediately started smoking) and that they had a lot to talk about. For some reason, she seemed to think they couldn’t talk about it by sitting side by side on the couch.

Considering the fact that now that Castiel knew that they were on the same page he had so many ideas about what he wanted to do with her, maybe she had a point.

“We have to behave professionally at the office, okay?” she said. “I don’t want anyone to know. I don’t want them spreading rumors or gossiping about me… shit, we’re gonna have to talk to Human Resources.”

“Do we have to?” Castiel asked. He could easily agree to keep it out of the office. This was, after all, so wonderful and so important that he just didn’t feel like sharing it with anybody.

“I mean, eventually.” She tapped her cigarette so the ash at the end would fall on the crystal swan’s back. “If we keep… I don’t know, doing whatever is it that we’re going to do from now on.”

“Dating?” Castiel suggested.

Meg took a long drag of her cigarette and let out a nervous giggle.

“It’s been a while since I was somebody’s girlfriend.”

Castiel swallowed hard, but the idea actually didn’t bother him at al. His girlfriend. He had a girlfriend and it was Meg. The very idea was so strange and so wonderful at the same time that his chest got warmer and his heart fluttered at the thought.

“You really need to stop looking at me like that,” Meg said. Castiel glanced away but her hand coming to rest on his turned his attention back to her. “Dammit, you’re really making it hard not to take you upstairs right now.”

“I, uh… well…” Castiel stammered nervously. Meg laughed and stretched across the table to leave a peck on the edge of his lips.

“Anything else we might need to talk about?”

Castiel made an effort to focus.

“I think… the most important thing is that we know we want to be together,” he said. “The rest will sort itself out.”

Meg smirked at him, “Spoken like a true romantic,” she teased him. “Okay. We’ll sort it out in a case to case basis, then.”

“You do realize this is not a business transaction, right?”

That made her laugh. And really, Castiel couldn’t ask for anything else.

He stayed later than other days that night. They went through his manuscript as they always did, except this time they were inside the house instead of at Meg’s office. They sat on the dining room table, with all the pages, pens and highlighters stretched out and they worked like they always did. The only difference Castiel noticed was that whenever he lifted up his head to look at her and thought about touching her or kissing her, he could do it. He knew now that she wasn’t going to reject him.

Just to test it out, he stretched his hand to graze hers at one point. Meg had a pen between her lips and her glasses had almost slid down to the tip of her nose. She looked up at him with an eyebrow crooked and immediately he felt his face burning up once more. But before he could take his hand away, Meg moved hers and intertwined their fingers together, squeezing slightly. She turned her attention back to the manuscript she was reading with a soft smile.

Castiel’s heart was pounding so fast that he was sure that she could hear it. But other than that, it was as peaceful as it could be.

A few hours later, Meg stretched her arms above her head (Castiel didn’t even try to hide the fact he was ogling at her anymore) and asked if he would stay for dinner.

“I’m in the mood for pizza,” she said, casually. “What about you?”

Castiel blinked at her, a sudden realization dawning on him.

“Were you… inviting me to stay for dinner all this time because you wanted to spend more time with me?”

“I guess that was a little too subtle, huh?” She chuckled.

Castiel was inclined to do the same. “Pizza sounds great.”

It was just as easy as everything else. She called for a delivery, ordered a large pepperoni and took out some beers from the fridge, at the same time she asked him to turn on the TV and put on a movie. Castiel did and eyed Meg’s Netflix queue critically, trying to learn as much as he could about her now that he had the chance. She watched a lot of true crime documentaries and (oddly enough) old timey sci-fi movies and TV shows. He hadn’t expected that.

Meg returned from the garden carrying the pizza and set it down on the coffee table.

“Ready?” she asked, with a smile.

“Umh… I don’t know what you want to watch?”

“Just put on whatever, Cas.”

Castiel hesitated once more, then pressed on a documentary about a serial killer family that kidnapped young men and then hunted them down like they were deer. Not precisely a happy subject, but Meg didn’t seem to care. She sat very close to him, her thigh pressing against him and drank her beer directly from the bottle. Castiel had also not expected that, but he had to admit that it was… relieving, somewhat. Meg always seemed so elegant and so composed in the office, and even here in her house, where she dressed and talked more casually, she still seemed very guarded and cagey.

It was fascinating when she sank on the couch and relax with a sigh. Like she finally had no reason to hide herself from him. Like she was finally peeling off a layer and letting him take a peek at what was behind it.

“What?” she asked, holding a slice of pizza in the air, halfway to her mouth.

“Can we cuddle?” he requested.

She chortled and leaned back against him. Castiel rested an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, as he munched on the pizza and tried to follow the story of the Bender family.

It soon became apparent why Meg hadn’t cared too much what he put on the TV. As the narrator boringly explained how the killers stalked their victims, Castiel felt her breath on his neck, hot and tingling. He shuddered and instinctively pulled her even closer to him. Her lips soon followed, pressing on his skin as the hand that rested on his knee slowly travelled up his legs. Castiel barely realized he was toying with the straps of her dress, sighing with her attentions and slowly losing any interest he might have had in the Bender’s story.

Meg mouth moved to nibble on his ear and Castiel felt his trousers getting very tight all of the sudden. He couldn’t resist it anymore. He kissed her, hungrier than before, faster than before, half leaning into her until they both lost their balance and fell on the couch, Meg lying back as Castiel left a trail of kisses down her collarbone.

He didn’t know it could be like this. He didn’t know the feeling of exhilaration that followed every caress on every inch of skin that his fingertips managed to reach. He hadn’t expected to lose himself so completely into her, to the point where all he could hear was the rush of blood in his ears. It sounded like waves crashing inside of his skull. Meg pressed her knee against the bulge in his pants and grinded it softly until Castiel let out a soft moan.

“Eager, are we, Clarence?” she commented with a chuckle.

“You’re… you’re so beautiful,” he managed to say between pants of breath.

Meg’s eyes glimmered at this affirmation, but to his great disappointment, she put her hand on his shoulder and gently pushed him away.

“We can’t do this tonight,” she whispered to him.

“I… of course,” Castiel said. He let go of her waist and sat up, clearing his throat. “I don’t want you to think… I should probably tell you…”

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” she cut him off. “I just don’t have any condoms.”

“Oh.”

There she was, practical and blunt like always. Castiel rubbed his neck nervously. It hadn’t even occurred to him that was something that they could even need. He smiled at his own stupidity and Meg smiled back, hoisting herself up next to him again.

“That doesn’t mean we can’t do other things,” she commented. Her fingers softly undid the buttons of his shirt.

“What do you have in mind?” he asked, but the question soon proved superfluous.

Meg reached for his zipper down with expert hands and made sure he saw her lick her lips and grin at him before she leaned down. Castiel wanted to tell her something, but he completely forgot what it was when she pulled his erection out of his boxers and placed her lips on the tip of it.

And this was definitely nothing he ever expected. Her mouth was soft and warm and the way she moved her tongue drove his mind into overdrive with pleasure. He bit the inside of his cheek, embarrassed at how much he wanted to scream until Meg stopped everything she was doing and lowered herself from the couch to kneel between his legs.

“I want to hear you, Cas,” she told him, snaking a finger down his chest. “It’s just you and me here. So you don’t have to be ashamed. You can be as loud as you want to.”

“I…” Castiel muttered, but she took him into his mouth again, even deeper this time and every coherent thought he might have had dissolve in the pleasure.

So instead, he threw his head back and moaned, moaned with every lick and lap. At one point (he wasn’t sure when), he tangled his fingers in her hair, accompanying her movements as she bobbed her head up and down in a steady rhythm.

“Meg… I think I’m… I’m about to…”

Her eyes were glimmering mischievously when she looked up at him and hollowed out her cheeks. Castiel came embarrassingly fast and embarrassingly long. In the height of his orgasm, he didn’t realize he was fisting Meg’s hair and holding her down against his body. When he managed to look again, he immediately let go of her.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I’m… really sorry.”

Meg only gave him a tightlipped smile, got up and promptly disappeared inside the guest’s bathroom. Castiel was left on the couch, breathing heavily and trying to catch his breath. When he realized just how improper it was that he was sitting there, he tucked his cock back inside his pants and got up. He didn’t get too far. He had to lean against the wall because his knees were still trembling in the wake of his orgasm.

Meg came out from the bathroom and smirked at him.

“Well, wasn’t that fun?” she asked.

Castiel sat back on the couch’s armrest and instinctively wrapped his arms around her when she came to stand near him. His cheeks were still burning and his entire fire felt heavy, as if he’d suddenly become very, very tired.

But the good kind of tired.

“I… I enjoyed it very much,” he stammered. But then he remembered that Meg had asked him not to be embarrassed, so he looked up and spoke with a bit more confidence: “I would like to…”

He slid his hand up her thigh, but she caught him and kept it in place before he could lift up her dress. She kissed him before he could ask any question.

“We’ll have time for that,” she promised him, in a sultry whisper. “We’ll have time for all sort of fun things, Clarence. Soon.”

Castiel was fine with that. He had enjoyed that evening very much and whatever the future held, he didn’t want to rush into it. Especially considering…

His cellphone vibrated on the coffee table, startling them both. Meg laughed and slowly backed away from his embrace.

“You better pick that up. I’m going to clean this up.”

She grabbed the half empty pizza cardboard and disappeared into the kitchen. Castiel picked up his phone, a little bitter at whoever it was on the other side of the line. It happened to be Sam.

“Hey, Cas. Are you okay? Where are you?”

“Why are you asking me?” Castiel groaned.

“Well, it’s kind of late for the time you usually return and we were just worried…”

“He’s probably with his girlfriend!” Dean shouted on the background.

“Shut up, Dean!” Sam shot back. “So, where are you? Are you coming back?”

Castiel’s anger melted at the kindness of the question. He really hadn’t expected his roommates to actually care about his comings and goings and now that he thought about it, maybe he should have been kinder to them. After all, if something happened to him on the street, they would be the first to know.

“I am… yes, I’m with the girl I told you about.”

“Oh,” Sam said, and then a little louder. “Oh! Oh, God, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to interrupt!”

“No, it’s okay. I’m going to… head out in a little bit,” he added, taking a look at Meg, who was now picking up the rumpled napkins. “Thank you for your concern.”

He hurriedly ended the call and moved to help Meg pick up the empty bottles.

“Well, aren’t you a gentleman?” she laughed as he followed her into the kitchen. It was just as luxurious as the rest of the house, with a chromed island and white cabinets overhead. “So I’m the girl you told about to your friends, huh?”

“They were the ones who encouraged me to talk to you. And I’m glad they did,” he said, as he disposed of the bottles.

“Me too.” She chuckled while she shut the dishwasher and started the cycle, but her face went serious as she leaned back against it. “Perhaps you shouldn’t give them any more details. For the time being. About who I am, I mean.”

Castiel felt his heart sink a little bit, but he couldn’t really blame Meg. She didn’t know who Sam and Dean were and she was very private about everything else. Of course she wouldn’t want him to be sharing it with them. He promised her he wouldn’t tell them anything.

After they were done cleaning, she walked outside with him. The night had fallen over their head and somewhere, a cicada was singing. Hamlet spotted them and came running and barking at them, happily wagging his tail. Castiel patted him on the head and stood awkwardly near the gate. He didn’t know what to say or even if he should say anything at all. He opened his mouth but before he could speak, Meg’s hands were on the back of his head, pulling him in for one last kiss for the evening.

“I’ll see you on Monday,” she said.

The gate closed between them before Castiel could come up with an answer.

 

* * *

 

Monday seemed centuries away.

Castiel didn’t sleep a wink that Saturday night. It was late when he got to the apartment and the Winchesters had already gone to sleep, so he spent the night tossing and turning in his futon. Meg wasn’t there with him, but he could still feel her. He could still recall the exact texture of her skin and her hair underneath his fingertips, the scent of her perfume, the softness of her mouth…

He breathed in deeply and turned around, his body reacting to the memory with embarrassing quickness. He turned on his side, resisting the urge to touch himself and make a mess inside of his pajama pants. He closed his eyes, but soon he found himself in a very vivid dream that involved Meg and well… he ended up getting up at three in morning to go to the bathroom and deal with his urges as swiftly and silently as he could manage. He was able to sleep easier after that.

The next morning, he woke up early to the sound of Dean manipulating the coffee maker.

“Well, hello, there, Romeo,” he greeted him with a smile and patted the chair next to him. “Why don’t you sit right here with me and tell me all the details?”

“Leave him alone,” Sam groaned. “Unlike you, I’m sure Castiel is not the bragging type.”

“What do you mean by that?”

The brothers began arguing while Castiel ignored them pointedly and got ready to go to the coffee shop. Unluckily for him, I turned out to be one of those lazy Sundays that left him too much time on his hands to get bored and think too much.

What if Meg changed her mind? What if she had time to think it over and realize that the day before had been a mistake? What if…?

He texted her during his break. He had thought about calling her but he figured that would be too needy and desperate, which were two things that he absolutely was, but she didn’t need to know that.

_> Hello. How are you doing today?_

She didn’t answer until several minutes later.

_> Aren’t you supposed to be working?_

Castiel eyed the coffee shop. There was no one waiting in line and only two tables were occupied.

_> We’re having a slow day._

_> Well, then, anything I can do to make it more interesting?_

She followed that with a winky emoji. Castiel sighed with relief. She was just as flirty and receptive as she had been the day before.

So everything was fine for now.

He still made an effort to put on his cleanest shirt and his nice pair of pants the following morning. He tried for several minutes in front of the mirror to comb his hair so it would look less like he’d just woken up, but in the end he gave it up. Meg had seen in on worst days.

It was odd, he thought as he rode the bus. His heart was pounding faster and his hands felt sweaty just at the thought that he was going to see her again… he was still half-convinced that it had all been a dream. He was still expecting her to tell him it had all been a mistake.

He spotted her in the crowded elevator, with her blood red lipstick and holding a cup of coffee. She was talking on the phone and didn’t even rise her eyes towards him.

“We need to talk with the legal and PR department…”

She sounded stressed. Castiel realized the elevator was deadly silent and people were reluctant to leave it as it stopped into every floor. Finally, there was few enough people that Castiel could slide next to Meg, but she still didn’t acknowledge his presence.

“No, it reflects poorly on us if we don’t answer to that. Last thing we need is a boycott, so I’m going to call his agent and give her a piece of my mind…”

The elevator stopped and the last person saved for them got out. Meg finally looked up.

“I’ll call you back later,” she said abruptly and ended the call.

“How…?” Castiel started saying but he was unable to finish. Meg walked up to him, put her hand on the back of his head and pulled him down for a long, sweet kiss.

She let go of him as soon as the elevator stopped on their floor.

“Hope you had a good weekend and are ready to work, Clarence,” she told him.

Castiel stood paralyzed where he was until the doors began closing, but afterwards, he followed her with a smile.

She did that every time they had the chance throughout that week. Nothing as intense or as explicit as what they had done in her home, but she still let him know in subtle hints that she was thinking of him. She would grabbed his hand in the crowded elevator if they managed to stand next to one another. Her fingers would grazed his for a second too long when he handed her coffee to her. She would smile or wink at him from behind her glass door while she spoke on the phone with whatever agent or writer she was bossing around that day. Just subtle ways to let him know she was thinking of him.

The most important change was that she would leave the office with him and drive him to his other job in her red Mercedes, while they talked or laughed or listened to soft jazz in her stereo. She would always park the car right outside the coffee shop and give him a kiss before wishing him goodnight. Castiel would then spend the rest of the night walking on air, smiling even at the most demanding or belligerent clients as he dreamed of her and red smile and her laughter and how much he wanted to it to be the next day already so he could see her again.

It was odd. Just the month before he was dreading getting up of bed every morning and hating basically everything about his life. Now even things that had driven him up the wall looked like minor nuisances, like nothing could really bother him anymore. He found himself writing again, his blocked magically lifted as the words and phrases flew from his keyboard. It was a new story about a man and a woman who met online and he didn’t know she was actually someone from his real life. It would probably be mediocre and tooth-rotting sweet, but he was certain that Meg would gut it and made him re-write all the bad parts until it was legible.

Friday came faster than he had imagined. The rest of the offices were already empty by the time Meg poked her head out of the door and glanced at him.

“Do you need a ride?”

“No, I have the night free.”

“Oh. Well, in that case, do you want to come in here for a sec?”

Castiel walked in, scratching his arm with nervousness.

“I have been meaning to ask you. Do you want to…?”

Meg shut him up with a fierce kiss and whatever it was that Castiel was going to say suddenly seemed superfluous and stupid anyway. He pulled her close, lifting her a few inches over the floor, but he shouldn’t have: his knees started shaking when her tongue touched his and a second later, they were both clumsily falling down on her couch.

“What happened to… acting professional in our workplace?” Castiel asked, between pants.

“You’re right, we’re being very unprofessional,” Meg commented, as she hoisted herself up in his lap and threw her arms around his neck.

Castiel decided that if she didn’t care, then neither did he. He kissed her back with passion, pulling him closer as his fingers toyed with the clips that held her hair in a bun until they yield one by one. Her locks fell freely over her shoulder and he tangled his fingers in them immediately.

“You really like doing that, huh?” she laughed after nibbling his lower lip for a moment.

“I like your hair,” Castiel replied. “It’s so soft and it always smells nice. Like citrus and mint…”

“That would be my shampoo,” she commented.

“Well, I really like it,” Castiel insisted. It was probably a silly thing to say, now that he thought about it, but he couldn’t help it.

Meg didn’t shame him for it, though. She just left a soft peck on the side of his lips and stood up.

“What was it that you wanted to ask me?” she asked, trying to smooth out a crease in her skirt.

Castiel was still so mesmerized for a moment he didn’t know what the hell she was talking about.

“Oh, right.” He pinched the bridge of his nose with a grimace. He couldn’t believe he was so easily distracted by her. “I was going to ask you if you wanted to go out for dinner tonight. There’s a place near my job. They serve Italian food and it’s very cozy and… discreet. I mean, I don’t think anyone from the office knows about it…”

His voice trailed off. Meg was once again giving him one of those looks he couldn’t decipher that made him feel like he had done or said the wrong thing. He had been gathering up the courage and saving up all of his tips to ask her. She was his girlfriend, right? So he should take her out on a date from time to time. She didn’t want people to know about their relationship but she was the one calling him into his office for impromptu make out sessions and…

A little soft smile appeared on her lips and Castiel’s doubts flew away like a startled flock of doves.

“I’m actually working late tonight,” she told him. “I don’t think I can even drive you home. So maybe some other time?”

“Yes. I understand.” Castiel stood up and nervously clear his throat. “Don’t worry.”

She grabbed his hand and pulled him closer to her.

“I’m doing this so I’ll have more free time this weekend,” she explained and then in a lower whisper: “You’re staying the night tomorrow, aren’t you?”

A rush of blood went up to Castiel’s head and his stomach fluttered. There were more implications in that question that he even dared to think about right now and the way her eyes smolder.

“Yes,” he said, only to realize just how eager and desperate he had sound a second later. He cleared his throat and tried again: “Yes. Of course.”

Meg chuckled softly and gave him one last kiss.

“Alright. Goodnight, then.”

Castiel rode the bus back home with the same feeling of floating in the clouds as he always did whenever he’d just said goodbye to Meg. Except that this time, he was aware there was a perilous drop if he took a bad step.

Benny, Sam and Dean were once again drinking beer and playing poker when he walked in. Castiel was beginning to wonder when exactly they worked to pay for the rent and the Wi-fi they all shared.

“Hey, Cas. Wanna join us?”

Castiel hesitated, but in the end, he decided this was a situation he needed to discuss with someone. He grabbed a beer from himself on the fridge and Sam dealt him a hand.

“Thought you were going out with your girl,” Benny commented.

“Uh, she was busy,” Castiel said, simply. He scratched the back of his neck. “But… I’m not coming back tomorrow night.”

That caused all three men to look up at him. Castiel wondered if that statement had been way too matter-of-factly, especially when Dean laughed and patted him hard on the shoulder.

“Look at you! Coming out of your shell, eh?” he said. “Well, that’s just peachy. At least you’ve got something to distract you from your asshole boss, right?”

Castiel thought that his boss was significantly less asshole-y now that he was dating her, and a little smile appeared on his lips.

“Thank you,” he muttered. “But the thing is, I… I’m a little nervous, because I don’t have a lot of experience with, uh… sex.”

That was one way of putting it. His friends still looking at him, a little puzzled.

“What do you mean? You had a girlfriend before, didn’t you?” Sam asked.

“Yes. Daphne,” Castiel admitted. “But see, it was different with her. It feels different. I think this is something more… serious. I don’t know how else to explain it.”

He didn’t want to come out and say it, but he didn’t have to.

“Yeah, having sex is always better when you’re a grown up and you have your own place,” Dean said, nodding. “You don’t have to go around sneaking in the backseat of the car or in your brother’s room.”

“Dean, ew!” Sam exclaimed.

“It was one time, Sammy, and you were away in summer camp…”

Sam grimaced and shook his head while Dean laughed openly in his face.

“I guess it has a little to do with that,” Castiel admitted, pensively.

“The important thing to remember, brotha’, is that she comes firsts. And second, if she wants,” Benny intervened. “She’s going to bed with you. Least you can do is make sure she has a good time.”

“How do I do that?”

Benny shrugged. “No two ladies are the same. Ask her. She’ll tell you what she wants.”

Castiel nodded. That was actually some useful advice. There was no guarantee he wouldn’t choke up when he tried, but after telling Meg everything he felt about her, every other talk from then on couldn’t be that hard.

“You know, I just realized we’ve never seen this girl,” Dean said. “Hell, I don’t even think we know her name.”

“Her name?” Castiel repeated and scrambled to find a lie. “She, uh… Meg. Her name is Meg.”

He hoped that wasn’t revealing too much. After all, they had no way of knowing that “Meg” and “Mrs. Masters” were one and the same.

“Do you have a picture of pretty Meg?”

“No, she’s… she’s very shy,” Castiel said, throwing the first excuse that came to his mind. And he called himself a writer; one would think he’d be better at lying. “We haven’t really taken any pictures together.”

And now that he said it out loud, he wondered if Meg would even let him take pictures of them together. With how sensitive she was about her privacy, would she be alright with it? Would she prefer he didn’t do such a thing? He thought about the pictures she kept on her shelves. Would she ever put one of them there too?

It was probably too soon to be wondering about those things. He took a long swig of beer as Benny shuffled the deck.

“You want to join us, brotha’?” he offered Castiel.

“I don’t know how to play.”

“We’ll show you,” Dean offered. “Come on, small town boy. You’re already going to fornicate, might as well add the gamble and drinking too.”

Benny gave a laugh and Sam rolled his eyes, but he smirked, a little amused at his brother’s joke after all.

Castiel hesitated for a moment, but then he leaned forwards with a smile. Growing up, he hadn’t had many friends. He was the weird kid who sat in the corner and read and during college, he had been too busy studying to graduate on time so he wouldn’t be a burden on Hannah.

Perhaps it was time to, as Dean had put it, “come out of his shell”. After all, how did he expect to write about anything if he didn’t experience life to the fullest?

“Very well. I’ll give it a try.”

“Alright!” Dean said as Benny dealt him a hand. “You already have the poker face down, so know all you have to know are the cards’ values. Now, aces are obviously the best you can have…”


	6. Chapter 6

Castiel stood outside Meg’s gate, staring at the intercom intently. A sensation of déja vu invaded him, because just like last week, he couldn’t bring himself to call. It wasn’t the same as back then, obviously. Last Saturday, he was wondering if his calling it would be the end of his personal and professional relationship with Meg. He now had the certainty that wouldn’t be the case, but a strange anxiety sat on the pit of his stomach nonetheless.

It was the absolute certainty that when he came out of that house the following day, he wouldn’t be the same again.

Castiel gritted his teeth and shook his head. He was being utterly ridiculous. Yes, there was a lot of ink spilled on the issue of sex and how wonderful and how much of a big deal it was. Yes, people talked about it as if it was the end all be all of human connection. Yes, there had been a period of his life where he had felt like there was something wrong with him for not being able to relate to it in the same way that everybody else seemed to do.

And after the last time he had been there, after the things Meg had made him feel, he understood a little bit better why people went so crazy about it. And there was much more to it, he knew it. He wanted to feel that way again. More than that, he wanted Meg to feel that good, too. He wanted to be close to her, as close as it was humanly possible.

So he was definitely being ridiculous right now. There was no reason to feel nervous and he wanted it, more than he thought he could ever want anything.

Why was he hesitating so much then?

Instead of stopping to try to answer that question, he lifted up his arm and pushed the intercom.

There. It was done. There was no need to worry about it anymore.

He walked down the yard with trembling legs once the gate open and distractedly patted Hamlet in the head when he came barking to greet him. Meg waited for him at the door, wearing one of her adorable sundresses and her biggest smile.

“Hey,” she said when he came to the door. Immediately she put her hands around his neck and kissed him. It was a slow, sweet kiss, nothing like the urgency she had displayed the day before in her office. Yet, when they broke away, she licked her lips and asked: “Do you want to go upstairs?”

“Uh… what?” Castiel asked, perplexed. “Right now?”

“To leave your bag, Cas.”

Castiel looked down and laughed himself. Well, of course she meant that.

“Sure.”

“My room’s the last door to the left,” she indicated him. “Just leave it over the bed and come back so we can talk about what you’ve done this week.”

Castiel felt his ears burning. With all the excitement of starting his relationship with Meg, he had completely forgotten to add anything to his book. He was going to have to come up with an excuse for that.

The floor upstairs was as elegant and perfectly decorated as everything else: the immaculate beige and white walls, the wooden floor underneath, the pictures in the wall. They were paintings of landscapes and flowers, as impersonal and safe as everything else. Castiel wondered if Meg really liked them or if someone else had chosen them for her and she’d just… never bothered to take them down because she was always busy at the office and never bothered to look at them anyway. There was certain harmony, a certain pattern on how they were placed: mountains, then a bush of roses, then another mountain. The last painting, right in front of Meg’s door, was slightly larger than the others. It depicted a three mass boat, floating over a stormy sea, with a lightning striking right behind it.

Castiel stopped in front of that one. He understood very little of art, but he noticed immediately how this one picture broke the pattern. It was still a landscape, but this was much less serene than the others, much riskier and messier. Less a perfect portrait of whatever the artist had been looking and more like something out of a dream, like something they were looking at from a distance. The strokes were harsher and the dark blue of the waves and the silver from the lighting leapt at the observer from the canvass. The boat gave out an image of desperation, with its sails torn down to rags and its bow barely raised above the water.

And yet…

He snapped out of it and shook his head. He didn’t know how long he had been staring at that painting, but he really needed to stop getting distracted.

Meg’s room was just as orderly as everything else in the house. He felt a little nervous walking in there, but after a second or two, he realized that the order inside was only apparent. There were clothes piled up on a banquette in the corner and the door to the private bathroom was open, revealing a counter full of make-up and cream bottles that were in complete disarray. Meg’s nightstand had a pile of books on them, mostly pocket editions with the backs creased and the pages yellowed. It was immediately obvious that the hardcovers she kept on the shelf in her home office were for show and these were the books that Meg had actually read over and over and still enjoyed.

He was tempted to take an extra moment to read their titles and authors, but he had entertained himself here enough. He placed his bag on the bed like Meg had instructed and (refusing to think he would be going back up there in just a few hours) headed back down the hall.

Meg was on the couch, the pages of what she was reading that week spread in front of her. She shot a look at him over her glasses.

“Did you get lost up there?”

Castiel chuckled to himself slight as he sat in the armchair next to her and pulled up his laptop. Well, it was still the company’s laptop. He made a mental that he really needed to find out what had happened to his.

“You have a very nice house,” he said, because he felt like he should say something. “I don’t think I’ve ever told you that.”

Meg tilted her head at him.

“Thanks,” she said. “I paid a lot of money to a very arrogant woman to make it look this nice.”

“I suspected as much.” Castiel chuckled. “I imagined with your workload, you don’t spend a lot of time here. But you still manage to make some of the spaces your own.”

Meg scoffed and leaned back down on the couch, but she didn’t seem annoyed at him.

“Do you just say whatever comes to your mind all the time?”

“Not all the time,” Castiel said. “Sometimes I wait until the person who I want to tell the things I’m thinking of kisses me out of the blue.”

Meg stared at him for a moment before she burst into laughter and slid on the couch so she could hold his hand while they both worked.

It was a few hours until Castiel raised his eyes moved his head left and right to relieve his neck. He had been putting words on the page at a fairly steady rhythm, but now his eyes were tired and his back muscles were slightly sore. Meg was also tired: she took off her glasses and stretched her hands above her head before she turned to look outside of the window. It was getting dark outside.

“Are you hungry?” she asked him. “I’ll heat up the dinner.”

“Let me help,” Castiel offered and turned off the laptop.

“No, it’s okay, Cas…”

“Meg, please,” he said, standing up. “Just tell me what you need me to do.”

Meg narrowed her eyes at him as if she was going to protest but then she came up with something for him to do:

“Do you mind feeding Hamlet? Just take his plate outside and make sure he doesn’t follow you in when you come back.”

It sounded simple enough. She handed him a plate with kibble inside and Castiel ventured into the dimly lit garden. Hamlet’s house was next to the garage, but he seemed to have been busy elsewhere, because Castiel didn’t find him when he stopped next to it.

“Hamlet!” he called out. “Here, boy!”

He whistled, but nothing happened. There was no exciting barking or paws on the ground coming his way. Castiel had a horrible thought: what if he hadn’t closed the gate properly? What if Hamlet had ran away and had some sort of accident? Meg would hate him if her dog was lost because of him…

Something pushed him to the ground and the next thing he knew, he was lying face down on the grass, the plate turned over and killed spread everywhere. Hamlet licked his ears before getting off his back and started to chomp down the kibble, seemingly without breathing. Castiel rolled over him and sighed at the Doberman.

“Good boy, Hamlet.”

Hamlet paid no mind to him as Castiel stood up and dusted off his clothes. He was sure that there were traces of grass and dirt all over him, but hopefully they wouldn’t be noticeable. And he had brought a change of clothes for the next day, so…

He stopped dead in his tracks when he stepped inside the house.

Meg had dimmed all the lights of the living and the dining room, so the room was now bathed in a soft golden glow coming from the candles she had set upon the table. She had chosen a white, long tablecloth and there was a bottle of wine and two tall glasses waiting for him. There was soft music coming from somewhere, but he couldn’t tell exactly from where as he approached the table. Meg came out of the kitchen carrying a plate that she set down at the center. She smiled at him as she took off her oven mittens.

“Well, what do you think?” she asked him. “It’s not exactly a fancy restaurant, but it looks pretty nice. And I got us some lasagna.”

Castiel stared at her, wondering how the hell she’d managed to do all of that in the five minutes he was outside. It looked fantastic, romantic and intimate, just look he had picture their first actual date would be. He took a step towards her and wrapped his arms around her.

“I love it,” he said. He kissed her, but Meg gently pushed him away after a second.

“Save that for after the dinner,” she told him. “Come on, food’s getting cold.”

Castiel opened the wine and filled up both of their glasses. They toasted and ate happily. Castiel told her about the poker night and how he was happy he and his friends weren’t actually playing for money, because he would have lost everything and Meg told him office gossips about the writers they were managing. Apparently, one of them had made a racist comment on Twitter and ever since then the legal team was trying to find a way to drop him without having to pay too much because, as Meg pointed out, the guy was a racist asshole who didn’t deserve to be paid his bonus.

“It’s been a PR nightmare,” Meg sighed, massaging her temples as if the sole memory made her feel tired.

“Why are you dealing with that?” Castiel asked her. “Your job is to make sure the books are up to the editorial’s standards. Shouldn’t something like this be Mr. Fitzgerald’s problem?”

“You would think.” Meg chuckled bitterly. “Garth, bless his heart, he’s a great guy, but he’s… not the most brilliant man. It’s better to leave him to his model trains and pretend he has veto power on the decisions I make.”

“He doesn’t?”

Meg’s smirk was smile enough. Castiel wasn’t sure he wanted to know what strange business deals she had done to basically become the power behind the throne.

“I think he has a crush on you,” Castiel commented.

“Do you, now?”

She stretched her hand across the table, her fingers gently grazing the back of his hand. Castiel turned his palm around to grab hers and pulled it in to leave a kiss on her knuckles.

“Can’t say I blame him.”

“You’re so sweet on me, Clarence,” she muttered. Her sultry tone sent a shiver down his spine.

They had finished the lasagna and were done with most of the wine. He was feeling slightly lightheaded, especially when she stood up and walked closer to him, grabbing his other hand as she approached him and pulling him to stand in front of her. Her eyes were so bright in the golden candlelight…

She put her hands on his cheek and pulled his face down for a kiss. It was different this time. Slow, deliberate, firm. Nothing rushed or desperate about it. Yet the sudden heat wave that went down his body and the way his knees went weak were just as strong as always.

“Do you want dessert or do you want to come upstairs now?”

“I think… I’m too full for dessert,” Castiel said. He was blushing, he could feel his face lighting up with his words.

But the way Meg smiled at him and pulled from his hand to guide him to the stairs made him realize this was nothing to be afraid or embarrassed of. This was natural, this was _right_.

He still needed to tell her, he thought as they stopped outside of Meg’s room and they kissed once more against the wall. He really, really had to tell her, he thought as she opened the door and guided him inside. They kicked off their shoes and kissed him one more time as they stood right next to the bed and Castiel just couldn’t find it in him to interrupt this. Finally, when her fingers started undoing the first buttons of his shirt, Castiel broke away.

“Meg, wait,” he panted.

He didn’t realize he was that short of breath and that his heart was racing in his chest. It was kind of amazing he had even managed to utter those words.

“What?” She frowned. “Is there a problem?”

“No, there’s… there’s no problem,” Castiel said. The nervousness he had felt while he stood outside of her gate returned and it almost made him choke on his words: “It’s just… I have to tell you. I don’t… I have never…”

Luckily, he didn’t need to say anymore. Meg’s eyes grew wider and she stepped back away from him.

“You’re… you’re a virgin?!”

“I… yes,” he confirmed, lowering his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

He didn’t know why he was apologizing. Except that he now wished he had kept his mouth shut and they could have continued with what they were doing a moment before.

Meg stared at him for a moment. She let out a chuckle, but when he didn’t react, she covered her mouth with her hands for a few seconds.

“Wh- _how_?”

Castiel rubbed the back of his neck.

“It just… never happened.”

“But you must have had girls throwing themselves at you!” she stated.

“I wouldn’t know about that,” Castiel said. “I was a very shy child. And when I went to college, I dated this girl called Daphne. She was very religious and thought people shouldn’t have sex until they get married. I was fine with respecting her decision. So we just never…”

He let his voice trail off. Meg puffed for a moment and then nodded, but Castiel couldn’t tell if she was reassuring him or herself.

“Okay, well. Now I feel more like a cradle-snatcher than I did before,” she said, shaking her head.

“I’m not a baby, Meg.” Castiel frowned.

That at least got her to laugh, but there was still an undercurrent tension in her voice when she spoke again.

“Well, that’s… that’s fine, then,” she muttered. “I can wait. I can…”

“No.” He crossed the room in two strides and grabbed her hands. “I don’t want to wait. Not with you. I want it to be tonight, Meg, I want you to… to be my first.”

The words rolled off his tongue clumsily, his cheeks burning bright once more. But he managed to hold her gaze when Meg slowly raised it. Her eyes were smoldering again, bright and piercing into him.

“Are you sure?”

Her voice was a whisper once again and a shiver went down his spine.

“Yes,” he replied. “I want this. I want you, Meg. Just…”

He couldn’t go on. Meg was kissing him again, insistent, fiercely. Her fingers found the buttons of his shirt again and this time they almost ripped them open without a second of hesitation and slid it down his shoulders. He moaned softly when she moved from his lips, to his jaw, down to his neck and his collar bone. She bit the soft flesh of his skin until he sighed deeply.

“Meg…”

“Get your hands moving, Clarence,” she instructed him. “You gotta help me out this dress.”

He had thought so many times about untying the straps of her sundresses, about letting them pool to the floor at her feet, letting his fingertips roam through the soft exposed skin… it was almost like a dream that it was finally happening, that she was finally there in his arms…

She had chosen a black lace bra that pressed her small breasts and formed a tempting cleavage. Castiel wanted to lower his mouth to it and kiss it, just like she had done to him. But before he could, she unbuckled his belt and let his pants slid down to the floor. He looked embarrassed at the tent that had formed in his boxers, but Meg slid a hand inside and gently stroke his erection until he let out another moan.

“We’re gonna make the first round all about you, okay?” she whispered in his ear. “You do what you need to do. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“But I…” Castiel began protesting, and had to stop to moan again under Meg’s caresses. “I want to make you feel good, too.”

The smirk on her lips was more mischievous than ever.

“We can do that later,” she promised again. “I’m gonna tell you how to make me feel good. But this time needs to be just for you, okay?”

Castiel barely had time to agree before she also slid down his boxers and pushed him down on the bed, naked and harder than he remembered ever being in his life. She knelt on the bed next to him and opened her drawer to take out a condom.

He had another moment of panic. He knew, in theory, how those were supposed to go, but he had never put one on himself. If Meg expected him to…

She did no such thing. Instead, she unwrapped the foil with expert fingers and placed the condom on her mouth. Castiel closed his eyes and screamed out as the warm of her mouth slowly descended down his length. He feared that he was going to finish before they had even begun, but he managed to hold on until she positioned herself right on top of him.

She didn’t bother removing her panties, just moved them to she side slightly. That turned him on even more for some reason. She was in control of everything and he knew right at that moment that he was going to let her do anything she wanted with him.

Her warmth enveloped him as she slowly lowered herself down on his dick. Castiel put his hands on her hips, not to guide her, just… to have something to hold on to while all those feelings overwhelmed him at the same time.

“Are you okay?” she asked him. She was also breathing heavily, with reddened cheeks and swollen lips from all their kissing.

She had never been more beautiful.

“Yes,” he promised her. “Yes, I’m fine. Meg, please…”

She rolled her hips and the friction sent an electric shock all through him. Castiel closed his eyes and held on tighter to her as she moved, grinding against him softly at first, but gaining momentum the louder he moaned, the more he muttered that yes, he wanted her, that she was so perfect and amazing and…

The pleasure took him by surprise. He’d had orgasms before, but never this intense, never this prolonged. He shook on the bed and he might have fallen from it if Meg held him by the shoulder and pinned him down to the mattress, riding him even as he writhed and cried out underneath him.

“It’s okay,” she said, arching her back down to kiss his forehead, his cheeks that were humid for some reason and finally his lips. “It’s okay. Shhh, Cas. You did great.”

Castiel didn’t know if she was only saying that to make him feel better that he had lasted so little. But it really didn’t matter. As she pressed her body to his, he knew immediately he’d do anything to feel that close to her again soon.

 

* * *

 

 

He opened his eyes when he heard the water flushing down from the bathroom. Meg had told him to get under the covers so he wouldn’t get cold while she got rid of the condom. He felt joyously tired, as if he had run a marathon or completed a very important physical task, so he must have fallen asleep for a few seconds. But he was up and alert when Meg came out of the bathroom, wrapped in a silk robe she promptly discarded before she climbed on the bed next to him.

He hadn’t forgotten what Benny had told him, and it was fair, wasn’t it? She had made him feel such wonderful things…

She smiled at him as she laid down her head on the pillow.

“So,” she said. “You’re officially not a virgin.”

“I guess so,” Castiel agreed with a chuckle.

“How do you feel?”

Castiel reflected on that question as he twisted a lock of her hair between his fingers and watched her happy, relaxed face.

“There are no words,” he declared in the end and that made Meg laugh again.

“Oh, some writer you are.”

“I understand now,” Castiel continued. “What the big deal is all about. Why people are always talking about this.” He slid his hand down her cheek, her neck, and slid three fingers beneath the strap of her bra. “But I think…”

He stopped himself, blushing as the thought crossed his mind.

“What?” she insisted. “You can tell me, Cas.”

“I think… it wouldn’t have been that good if it hadn’t been with you.”

Meg’s smile faltered a little bit, and when she giggled, it sounded a little less enthusiast that other times.

“Well, yeah. It’s always better with someone you trust.”

That wasn’t what Castiel had meant, but it didn’t matter. He lowered his hand from where it was resting in her shoulder and toyed with the clasp of her bra.

“Can I…?”

“Suit yourself.”

She didn’t have big breasts, like a model or some of the girls that his friends would have gone crazy about back in high school or college. They were small, with pink pointy nipples that Castiel made sure to caress with his thumb. He watched her face closely, until her eyelids fluttered and a soft sigh escaped her lips. It was nowhere near as loud as she had made him scream, but it was a start.

“I guess I owe you one,” he commented.

“You owe me _two_ ,” Meg pointed out. “But who’s counting?”

Castiel laughed as he lowered his face to the crook of her neck and left a soft kiss there.

“I better get to work then.”

Meg giggled and then moaned when Castiel took one of her nipples in his mouth, sucking softly and giving it kitten licks around it. She slid her hand down to his chest slowly, tracing soft cresses over his skin until her fingers reached between his legs.

She moved away, her eyes growing wide with surprise.

“Really? Already?”

Castiel didn’t know whether to feel ashamed that he was getting semi-hard again.

“I… you’re a very beautiful woman, Meg.”

Meg laughed and lassoed her arms around his neck.

“Well, then. Let’s see how you like it when you get to be on top.”

“There’s a difference?”

Instead of answering, Meg clashed her mouth against his and that was really all the encouragement he needed.

 

* * *

 

He rolled over the bed and extended his hand only to find the other side of the mattress disappointingly empty.

The managed to bring him up from the heavy sleep he had fallen into. They had made love twice more and then laid silently in each other’s arms for a while. Castiel remembered Meg’s fingers running through his hair, telling him he needed to get up and brush his teeth and maybe pee. He had mumbled that he was going to do that in a second longer… but then he never got around.

And now Meg wasn’t in the bed with him.

He called her name, but got no answer, so he rubbed his eyes and untangled himself from the sheets. The sky beyond the window’s pane still looked darkened, though when he lifted it a little, he saw a sliver of light rising in the horizon. The bathroom was just as dark and silent as the bedroom.

That was odd. It was Sunday, why would have Meg got up at – he looked at the time in his cellphone and grimaced – five o’clock in the morning?

He walked across the hall barefoot and climbed down the stairs. As soon as he set his feet down on the living room, he heard a faint clanking and the sound of water running in the kitchen.

He found her by the sink, elbow deep in soap, washing the dishes and glasses they had used for dinner. She had put on a black silk robe that barely covered her butt and her long dark hair cascaded down her shoulders, messier than ever before.

It was strange, this… peace he felt inside. Whenever he was around her before, he’d always been a little too self-conscious, a little too agitated. Even after she had kissed him and he’d told her how he felt, it was as if he was watching every single one of his movements and words, too afraid that he might do something wrong that would end up with her pushing him away for good.

That hadn’t happened. They had been together and it had been just like it was supposed to be. He walked silently towards her and wrapped an arm around her waist before leaving a kiss in her exposed. She was much shorter than him without her usual stilettos.

“Good morning.”

“Good morning yourself,” she said, turning off the tap. “What are you doing up? Go back to bed.”

“Only if you’re coming with me,” he countered.

“Mmh?” she muttered. “I was thinking of making some breakfast. Just go upstairs and wait for me…”

“No. Let me help you with that.”

Meg wiggled a little in his embrace and turned around to look at him. Her body felt much stiffer than she had been the night before and there was a little furrow between her eyebrows.

“You don’t have to.”

Castiel slowly spun her, so she ended up facing him.

“But I want to,” he insisted.

He shut her up with a kiss before she could protest. They had both brushed their teeth when they woke up, he noticed, because her mouth tasted like mint. He lowered his hands to her hips and gently helde her up against his body until only the tip of her toes were grazing the floor. Meg sighed and relaxed in his arms, which allow him to turn around and sit her on the kitchen island, standing between her legs as she deepened the kiss, her hands pressing on the back of his neck.

Castiel untied the robe and toyed with the helm of Meg’s black panties.

“What are you thinking Clarence?” she asked in a smoky whisper that sent a shiver down his spine.

“There’s… one thing I want to try,” he told her. He felt his cheeks burning, but continued on despite it. His inhibitions were stupid at this point and if he wanted to please her, he was going to have to learn to push through them.

Meg looked at him, arching an eyebrow quizzically.

“Oh? And what’s that?”

He slowly pulled her panties down. He had explored every inch of her body with his hands underneath the covers, but there was something different in seeing her half naked in front of his eyes, in kneeling in front of her and tangling his fingers on the soft, thin hair that grew over the mound between her legs.

She wasn’t perfect. She was thin, but there was a little roll protruding in the lower part of her stomach. Her hips and thighs were wider than they looked when she put on her stockings and skirts. She noticed him staring at her body and shifted uncomfortably, as if she wanted to get down. Castiel held her where she was and kissed the inside of her thighs.

“You’re gonna have to tell me if I’m doing something wrong.”

“You really don’t have to…”

“I want to, Meg,” he interrupted her.

He moved forwards before she could protest any further.

Her skin there was softer than he’d expected, hot and wet against his mouth. He stuck out his tongue and tentatively gave a lick and Meg’s entire body shuddered above him.

“Clarence…”

Castiel looked up. “Is this alright?”

Meg was breathing heavily and it took her a moment to find her voice.

“Yes. Just… be careful with your teeth.”

Castiel noted that and went back to work, letting her musky taste invade his mouth. He alternated between softly sucking at her flesh and licking around her clit as she indicated him. It took a little while, but finally Castiel found his rhythm and Meg’s instructions dissolved in a series of moans and sighs.

It was a beautiful symphony and Castiel felt the pressure growing on his groin. Despite the temptation to touch himself, he kept both his hands firmly on Meg’s thighs while she grinded and writhed against his face. This was about her, just like she’d made so many other things about him previously. It was fair, just as Benny had said. She deserved to feel just as good as he had.

Finally, Meg shuddered and her body stiffened as a sharp cried of pleasure fell from her lips. Her fingernails sank in his scalp and grabbed a fistful of his hair to pull his face up so he could look at her. Her cheeks were red and her eyes were shining bright. He stood up to meet her smile and she pulled him for a hungry kiss as she stroke his dick inside his boxers.

It didn’t take long for him to come as well. His knees trembled, but he held on to her, breathing in heavily the scent of her sweat and her pleasure.

After a few moments of silence, Meg laughed.

“Not bad for your first time, Clarence. Not bad at all.”

 

* * *

 

They showered together and then sat down on the living room to drink their coffee and toasts. Meg, still in her silky robe, moved her chair a little closer to the window and lit on a cigarette she smoked slowly, taking lazy drags in between sips of her black coffee.

“I’m not sure that’s healthy for you,” Castiel pointed out. He had put on his jeans, but the day was starting warm enough that he felt like he didn’t need to bother with a shirt.

“I’m not sure you’re healthy for me.” She chuckled. “I feel like I’ve run a marathon.”

Castiel wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or not, so he just tilted his head at her.

“Why were you washing the dishes at five in the morning?”

Meg blew out the smoke out of her nose and looked down at her coffee as if she expected to find the answer there.

“I felt… overwhelmed.”

Castiel frowned, confused, and she elaborated:

“After my ex-husband left me, I… saw some men,” she explained. “But never here in my home. And I never spent the night with them. And then last night, I woke up in the dark and you were there, and it was…”

She stopped. Castiel extended his hand to touch hers and though she didn’t pulled away, she glanced at him startled.

“This is serious, isn’t it?” she asked, lowering her voice just a bit. “You and me, this isn’t… this isn’t just something that we’re going to do once to get it out of our systems.”

“I was… I was hoping it wouldn’t be, no,” Castiel replied. He was a little confused by that asseveration to be perfectly honest. Had he misinterpreted what this was all about?

Before he could start overthinking again, though, Meg shook her head and laughed slightly.

“The HR gossip is going to be endless.”

Castiel laughed as well. If office gossip was the biggest worried they had, then they were going to be just fine.


	7. Chapter 7

The thing that surprised Castiel the most about his relationship with Meg was just how _easy_ it all was.

The following weeks, they fell into a comfortable routine that involved seeing each other at work and keep going as it all was business as usual. Castiel answered her phone and fetched her coffee, helped her with the manuscripts and worked on his computer during his lunch breaks.

Well, that was until Meg noticed he was eating a hot pocket one day and decided that was absolutely unacceptable.

“From now on, when you order lunch for me, get something for yourself too. Something with proteins. Meat and a salad or something like that.”

“I couldn’t possibly…” Castiel started to protest, blushing, but Meg wouldn’t hear it.

“Cas, just put it on my credit card. It’s not an issue.”

And she walked out of the office before Castiel could explain to her why it was a little bit of an issue. Then again, it was such a small, dumb thing to argue about that it wasn’t even worth it.

She also insisted on driving him to his job at Donna and Jody’s coffee shop and despite how many times Castiel asked her to come inside and have a cup of coffee, she always refused.

“No one knows you’re my boss… my other boss here,” he insisted. “The start of my shift is always boring. Please, stay a little longer so we can talk or…”

She always gave him that soft smirk of hers, the one that made his heart flutter, and gently shook her head “no”.

“You get out too late for us to have a proper dinner afterwards,” she’d argue. “I’m starving. And I have to go check on Hamlet.”

Those were all perfectly valid excuses. Castiel couldn’t fault her for having them. Of course, despite the fact the saw each other every single day, he couldn’t expect her not to have a life outside of their relationship. That would be dumb and selfish.

And there were things he kept private as well. For example, he would never, in a million years, invite her to the small apartment he shared with the Winchesters and occasionally Benny, who seemed to come around more and more often those days. Sam and Dean made an effort to keep the place clean and to throw away their scraps of food and their bottles of beers, but sometimes they were all so busy with work or with their studies that the laundry just remained in its basket for weeks or the dishes in the sink piled up until they were out of anything clean to eat from.

He really liked spending time with his friends, certainly, that was out of the question. But they were a rowdy bunch. Sam and Dean were always screaming at each other from different ends of the apartment about something, so there was never a moment of peace there. And with late summer releases coming up and the autumn ones getting ready, the rhythm at which Meg had meetings and had to, in her words, “put out stupid fires” increased, which also meant Castiel’s workload increased. They barely had time to flirt or kiss in her office like they had done before.

That wasn’t to say they didn’t do stuff there: Meg usually kissed him goodbye or held his hand in the elevator when nobody else was watching. It was on one such occasion that Castiel looked down and saw a weird square thing sticking to her wrist.

“Is that… a nicotine patch?” he asked, raising her hand so he could take a better look at it.

Meg looked away and scoffed, as if she was embarrassed that he’d noticed that.

“Yes,” she admitted in the end. “I know you don’t like it when I smoke around you, so I’m trying to kick the habit. Or at least keep it under control.”

She let go of his hand and walked away when the doors open, but Castiel was absolutely certain she knew he was smiling like an idiot. It was such a small consideration towards him, but it moved him deeply anyway.

He appreciated their weekends at her house more than he could ever say. There was a certain peace in sitting in her living room and typing away, while Hamlet ran around in the garden just beyond the window. They ate together in the couch when they were lazy and ordered takeout or at the table in the candlelight when they cooked.

It took a while for him to convince her to let him help her around the kitchen.

“Just tell me what you need,” he insisted over and over. “I’ll chop something or keep an eye on the stove. I don’t mind helping you.”

“You don’t have to help me. It’s okay.”

“I want to help you,” he insisted.

He felt like every single one of their arguments went that way. He offered to do something for her and she insisted that “he didn’t have to” while he kept telling her that it was his choice, that he wanted to help her and make her life easier in any way it was possible for him to do so. Meg countered that he did every other day of the week.

“You don’t have to work for me here, Clarence.”

“I still don’t know who Clarence is,” he pointed out. “And I don’t do it because it’s my job. I do it because you’re my girlfriend and I want to do something nice for you.”

She always looked away or laughed awkwardly when he used the word “girlfriend”. Castiel had been tempted to ask her if it made her uncomfortable and if she’d prefer him to call their relationship something else, but he never had the chance before she changed the topic.

“You’re a guest here. Let me spoil you.”

“You spoil me enough,” he said.

He meant it because of the lunches she kept buying, and the driving him around whenever she could, and the fact she was willing to review and review his book and some of the short stories he had managed to make readable over and over and gave him suggestions tirelessly. But Meg didn’t seem to think of that as part of the spoiling.

“I just want to make you feel welcome, that’s all.”

“And you do,” Castiel told her. “Just being here with you is enough.”

She crossed her arms across her chest and leaned back down on her kitchen counter, as if she wanted to physically put herself between him and the fresh produce they were arguing about.

“Well, this is my house and I get to decide who cooks,” she shot back.

“Oh, is that how this is gonna go?” He took a step closer to her. “Well, I have news for you, Mrs. Masters. You’re not my boss here.”

He had never spoken to her in that manner and it startled the both of them. Unlike other times, however, he didn’t back down or got nervous. She was the one who was always going on about boundaries and how they needed to respect them but then call him inside her office afterhours for a make out session and acted like giving him an inch of freedom in her house would somehow mean that…

She tilted her head ever so slightly with her eyebrow raised and Castiel’s train of thought crashed and burnt.

“Oh?” she asked. “Is that so?”

Her hands slithered around his hips and suddenly he was very much aware of her breasts poking at his chest through the very thin fabric of her dress.

“Don’t try to distract me,” he said, but it was too late. Her lips were on his neck and he was utterly and completely distracted.

“So would you like to give the orders for once?” she asked in a sultry whisper. “And here I thought you enjoyed it when I bossed you around…”

“There are… there are times and… time and place… dammit,” Castiel stuttered and Meg laughed before her mouth crashed against his.

They needed to stop having sex in the kitchen. Castiel was pretty certain that couldn’t be hygienic.

But then again, it was becoming hard to find a spot where they hadn’t had sex on or around. They’ve done it on the couch, again, twice, and technically on the carpet because they rolled over and fell on it, which had ended with the both of them laughing until their stomachs hurt. Then on the table, on one occasion when Meg felt like she just couldn’t wait until they were up on the room. In the shower, of course, though Meg had been uncertain if he could hold her up for that long and he had been determined to prove her wrong.

Castiel had no parameters to say how much sex was too much sex. But he had the feeling that if he could give Meg more than just quick kisses in the office and sneak a hand squeeze here and there, he wouldn’t feel the need to be with her every second of every hour come the weekend. Then again, perhaps it wasn’t a question of “getting it out of their systems”. Perhaps the more they did it, the more they wanted each other. He didn’t think it could get better after that first night together, but he had been wrong. The more he learned about her, about her body, about the way she liked to be touched, the better it became. He liked to watch her coming undone, her head thrown back in ecstasy, her hair all messed up on the pillow, her lips parted and her skin glowing with sweat…

“Don’t you ever feel like trying something different, Clarence?” she asked him one night when they were cuddling in her bed.

“Do you want us to do something different?” he asked, frowning, though she couldn’t see him because she had her back pressed against his chest. “I’m willing to try everything once.”

“Yeah, but that’s the thing. You never try anything different. You always do what I tell you to do.”

“Because I thought you enjoyed that?”

The hurt he felt at the suggestion that she didn’t enjoy herself as much as he did must have reflected in his voice, because Meg turned around to stare at him in the face.

“I do enjoy it,” she promised him. “A lot. I… I actually hadn’t enjoyed myself so much in a while.”

“Then, what’s the problem?” he insisted.

She stayed quiet for a moment, her fingers running pensively through his hair. He loved it when she did that; it made him feel all fuzzy and sleepy. But this time, he made an effort to say awake while she searched for the words to answer his question.

“I’m afraid you’re going to get bored,” she told him in the end. “I’m afraid you’re no longer going to find it exciting and thrilling or…”

“Meg.” He interrupted her with a peck on the side of her lips. “This is all still very new to me. Trust me, I won’t be getting boring any time soon, and even if I do… well, it’s you. I can tell you anything.”

“Can you?” she asked, arching an eyebrow.

Instead of answering to her, Castiel kissed her neck and made love to her one more time.

Because he really didn’t want to say all the things that were running through his mind: about how she never went out or let anyone see them in public, about how she still hadn’t talked to HR even though she said she would, about how she kept giving him things and never allowed him to do the same thing for her, and about how all those things made him feel iffy if he thought about them for too long.

Which is why he didn’t. He told himself over and over that it was Meg, and it was wonderful, and he would be silly to complain.

And so he let the weight of everything he hadn’t been telling her fall on his shoulders just for another night.

 

* * *

 

It was around that week when Jo Harvelle showed up again, this time carrying several manila folders with cover designs Meg needed to approve.

“She just needs to go over then and give them the thumbs up,” she said, with a sigh. “I don’t know why they have to send me all the way up here when they could have just emailed them to her, but here we are.”

“Meg prefers to check things on paper,” Castiel said. Jo tilted her head at him and it took him a second or two to realize he had called Meg by her first name, which he absolutely shouldn’t have done at the office. “I mean… she just… she’s very into micromanaging,” he corrected himself, because that was the kind of thing people would complain about when talking about their boss, right?

Jo found this funny enough to give him a hearty laugh.

“Yeah, I guess so,” she said. “Oh, by the way, Ash said your laptop has been ready for weeks and that you need to pick it up.”

“Ash…?”

“From IT?” Jo explained. She then hit her head as if she’d just remembered something. “I never added you to the interns’ group chat!”

“Oh. I’m not online a lot,” Castiel said, blushing slightly as Jo took out her phone and immediately started typing his name on it.

“Yeah, obviously. ‘Cause Ash’s had your laptop for weeks.”

Her smile clued him on the fact that she was joking and he chuckled.

“Right…”

“Give it a try. You might like it,” Jo told him. “Sometimes we get together and have drinks, do slam poetry. That sort of thing.”

“It sounds very fun.”

“It is! You should join us tomorrow,” Jo invited him.

Castiel’s eyes involuntarily darted towards Meg’s desk. She was staring right at him with an unreadable expression on her face, but when she realized he was looking at her, she quickly glanced away and pretended to have been looking at her computer all that time.

“That’s very generous of you,” Castiel said, politely, turning his attention back to Jo. “But I usually spend the weekends with my girlfriend. We both work a lot, so it’s the only time when we can… uh, hang out.”

“Oh,” Jo said. She sounded a little surprised, as if she didn’t think Castiel was the type who had a girlfriend, but she quickly recovered and smiled again. “Well, bring her along. I’m sure she’ll have a great time.”

Castiel considered telling her his girlfriend was extremely introverted or something along the lines and then he figured… why would he tell her that? It was true that Meg preferred to spend time in her own home and that she was more often than not did everything in her power to avoid all types of company except for his. But then, this was an informal social gathering that they were being invited to and he had no reason to turn it down out of the gate.

“I’ll ask her,” he said.

“You do that.” Jo headed for the door and waved at him. “And don’t forget to pick your laptop!”

Castiel gathered the manila folders Jo had given to him and diligently took them to Meg’s office. She seemed to be rather engrossed with her work for real this time, so he decided not to bother her. He informed her of what Jo had said about his laptop and asked for permission to go look for it.

“Very well. Don’t take long,” she replied.

She didn’t add a joke or a flirty wink as she often did. Castiel took it as a sign that she was very busy and instead of being offended, he simply walked out and let her work.

The IT offices were in the building’s basement and it didn’t take him too long to locate Ash. He was the only one not wearing the uniform yellow polo shirt, instead preferring a sleeveless denim vest with the words “DOCTOR BADASS” embroidered in the back.

“The Masters asked me to do this quickly and efficiently and I told her _‘I can do it quickly or I can do it right’_. She said _‘Spare no expenses’_ , so I didn’t.” He opened the laptop so Castiel could see. “I gave you a full operative system upgrade and I bought you a new graphics card.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” Castiel said, a little overwhelming but all the technical babble.

“Oh, but I did.” Ash ran his fingers through his mullet and smiled wide at Castiel. “It’s not every day that I get the chance to build something up from scraps.”

“Well… thank you, then,” Castiel replied. “I, uh… are my documents…?”

“All of them are in there, man. I recovered them and made you a backup, because I’m that good.”

“Oh, come on!” someone on the next cubicle said. A head full of red hair appeared over the wall that separated them. “Be honest with the guy. It wasn’t that hard.”

“Charlie, you don’t have to spill all of our secrets to the uneducated,” Ash said, rolling his eyes. “Let them think I am the god of informatics.”

“Right.” Charlie rolled her eyes and extended her hand at Castiel. “You must be Cas. Jo has been babbling nonstop about you.”

“She has?” Castiel asked, a little taken aback by that. In the few times they had interacted, Jo had been friendly with him, but he saw no reason why she would talk to others about him.

“Yeah, she’s totally crushing on you, bro,” Ash informed him.

“Oh.” Castiel fidgeted with his hands. So that was why Jo had looked disappointed when he had mentioned his girlfriend. “Well, that’s… that’s unfortunate… I have a girlfriend.”

Charlie let out an exclamation of triumph and extended her open hand towards Ash. He groaned, but took out his wallet and paid her a ten dollar bill.

“We’ve been trying to find out for weeks,” Charlie explained as she quickly stashed the bill away. “You don’t even use your Facebook account!”

“Uh… no, not really.” Castiel scratched his arm. He had opened one ages ago at Hannah’s insistence, but he’d never really learned how to upload thing to it and such. “Should I?”

“No. Mark Zuckerberg is the Devil. He will steal all of your information and sell it to companies who will try to sell you stuff you don’t need,” Ash said. He made it sound incredibly sinister.

“Oh, that sounds dangerous.” Castiel tilted his head. “Who is Mark Zuckerberg? Does he work here?”

“Jesus, you’re like a fifty year old man,” Charlie said while Ash laughed loudly at him. “Look, hey, I know she was going to invite you to hang with us this Saturday, so if you said yes, bring your phone and we’ll show you how to join the rest of us humans in the twenty first century.”

Castiel wasn’t sure if they were mocking him or not, but decided to believe it was just a goodhearted joke, like the ones Dean made sometimes about how if Castiel drank more, he’d be less socially awkward. He wondered if the Winchesters and Benny would like to join him for that outing. Perhaps he could, after all that time, introduce them to Meg as his girlfriend.

Provided Meg accepted, of course.

She wasn’t in her office when he came back and one look at his calendar indicated she had left for an important meeting about marketing. Castiel sat down on his desk and tried to figure out how to use his operative system for the rest of the afternoon.

She came back late, seemingly exhausted, and stopped by his desk to take off her heels with a sigh of relief.

“Clarence, can you make me a coffee, please? And then you can leave if you want to. It’s early, but I don’t think I’m going to need anything else.”

“Very well. Is everything okay?”

She usually never told him to leave early. She either left with him or at last asked him to stay so she could give him a goodbye kiss. She looked up at him and gave him a soft smile.

“Yeah. Everything is fine. I’m just tired.”

She marched into her office, shoes in hand, without giving him another explanation. Castiel made the coffee as she’d requested and brought it to her.

“There you go.”

“Thanks.”

Meg made it a point to graze his fingers with hers as she took the mug from his hands. As always a slow, electric shiver went down his spine and his stomach to settle somewhere around his crotch. It was hard to resist the impulse to get down on his knees and do something extremely inappropriate for their work space…

She put the mug on her desk slowly and leaned forwards towards him.

“I had blinds installed.”

“You did?”

Meg hummed in agreement and Castiel looked up. In truth, there were blinds rolled to the ceiling right in front of the glass door and wall.

“Would you look at that?” he said, immediately grasping the implications of what she was saying.

“Why don’t you pull them down?” she asked. “And see how good they are at giving me some privacy?”

She didn’t have to tell him twice. Castiel pulled from the cord, blocking the view to his desk and the little hall people had to walk down when they wanted to see Meg. He doubted that anyone was going to come looking for her at that hour of the day, but still it was a good way to make sure that people didn’t interrupt.

“Why didn’t you have them before?”

“I never have meetings here.” Meg stood up and silently hit the lights. The office was now only illuminated by the golden light of the setting sun. “But lately I’ve felt like… changing that policy.”

She put her arms around his neck. Castiel realized she had unbuttoned her blouse and exposed the upper part of her breast and lacy bra.

“That is very inappropriate, Mrs. Masters,” he commented.

“Oh, well,” she said, standing on the tip of her toes to leave a kiss on the side of his neck. “Being the boss has to have some perks, no?”

Castiel didn’t really stop to think if that was correct or not. He lowered his hands to pick her up and Meg laughed as she hooked her ankles around his hips. He carried her to the couch and they flopped down on it, hands and mouths going everywhere now.

They didn’t even bother taking their clothes off. Castiel once again wondered if it was because they just wanted each other that much or if it was because they didn't have the chance to be together like this all the time. They were breaking rules, so many rules, rules they had set themselves about keeping their relationship away from their jobs, but as he unbuttoned her blouse to cup her breast with one hand and she undid her zipper with a single fluid movement, he realized neither of them had the capacity to care about it.

"You have a...?" Castiel asked, but his question got lost in a gasp when she gave a gentle tug to his hard cock.

"It's okay," she said. "I'm taking my pills again. We can be careless. Just this once..."

They were already being careless in so many other ways that it didn't really seem like it'd matter that much. Castiel let his hand wander up her skirt, grabbed unto her panties and slid them down, while Meg moaned soft words of encouragement in his ear.

"Like that. Cas, yes. Yes!"

He groaned as he slid inside her and Meg arched her back up with abandon. It was fast and artless, and Castiel couldn't understand how Meg was deriving any pleasure from it when they usually went much slower, but she was like a flame underneath him. Her skin burned underneath his fingertips and her cheeks were bright red. She pulled him down for a kiss and her teeth captured his lowered lips with such fierceness that Castiel tasted his own blood.

The sudden sharp pain was enough to drive him mad. He thrust his forwards even faster, not even picking up a rhythm or stopping to consult with Meg if she was enjoying it. The way she hid her face in his shoulder to suffocate her moans seemed to indicate that, so Castiel just grabbed her tight and pulled her up with him as he sat up to go even deeper. Meg grabbed a fistful of his hair and pulled hard, covering his mouth with her when he cried as the pleasure overwhelmed him.

They held each other for a moment, trying to catch their breaths, and then Meg laughed.

“That was beautiful,” she said, leaving a kiss on his temple. “That was really beautiful, Clarence.”

She climbed down from his lap and buttoned up her blouse, leaving Castiel surprised and more than a little cold. She disappeared inside the bathroom while Castiel stayed on the couch, waiting for his hands to stop trembling before he started fixing his clothes. Meg came back after a few seconds and sat behind her desk, fishing a compact mirror and an eyeliner from her purse.

“That was fun, wasn’t it?” she asked, as she reapplied her makeup. “I’m so glad I invested on those blinds.”

“Yes.” Castiel laughed, but there was still a feeling of restlessness in the pit of her stomach now that his brain was catching up to what’d happened. So far they had conducted their relationship with such discretion and care, what could have possibly prompt her to have sex in her office without their usual protection? He stood up and walked towards the desk. “And don’t get me wrong, it was very enjoyable…”

“Oh, definitely.” She chuckled.

“But it was also very… unlike you.”

Meg finished putting on her eyeliner and moved on to her lipstick.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re not usually this reckless, Meg.”

Meg pouted her lips and then smiled as she shut her mirror.

“Well, I just felt like doing it. And I’m glad you were on board.”

“Yes, I’m always on board,” he said, even though he was pretty sure she knew that already. She obviously wasn’t going to answer his question, so he decided to drop the issue and move on to the next one. “Listen, Jo was telling me…”

“Jo?” she asked, crooking an eyebrow.

“Harvelle. Mr. Fitzgerald’s assistant?”

“Oh, the blonde girl,” she said, with a disdainful gesture of her hand. “What did she tell you?”

Castiel wasn’t sure how to react to Meg’s contempt towards Jo, but he went on nonetheless. He told her about the intern’s group chat and that they had invited him to their meeting that Saturday. Meg listened to him in silence, the smile gone from her face. When he finished, she stood up and closed her purse.

“So what, you’re asking me permission to go? I’m not your mother, Castiel. You can do whatever you want.”

The coldness in her tone and demeanor astonished him.

"I'm not asking for your permission," he said, frowning. "I'm asking you to join me."

Meg burst into laughter and continued laughing for a few seconds until she realized Castiel wasn't joining her.

"You can't be serious," she said in the end.

"Why not?" Despite his intentions to keep himself under control, Castiel was starting to get slightly irritated. "What's the problem?"

"What's the problem?" Meg repeated with a scoff. "I can't join a group of interns for a night out drinking beer. I'm their boss, for God's sake."

"You wouldn't be going as the boss. You'd be going as my girlfriend," Castiel said, even though he was pretty sure that was already overstated.

Meg, however, just shook her head.

"I can't, Castiel. It just... it can't happen."

"Why not?" he repeated. "Are you embarrassed of our relationship?"

"Why are you asking that?"

Her tone was firm and confident as always, but Castiel noticed the way her eyes glanced down and how she crossed her arms above her chest, defensively.

"You haven't disclosed it to HR, despite saying that you would," Castiel pointed out. "You never let me take you out anywhere. Whenever we're together, we just stay in your house all the time…"

"I thought you liked staying in my house for the weekend."

"I do. But we never do anything other than that," he said, frustrating that she wasn't understand it or simply refused to understand it. "You never let me do anything for you. Even right now, you just…"

"Did that bother you? Because I really thought you had enjoy yourself," Meg said, rolling her eyes.

Her tone was cutting and it was more than Castiel could take.

"You get to call all the shots, all the time!" he said, raising his voice a little.

"I thought you were okay with that!"

"It's not just the sex, Meg. It's everything!" He paced around for a moment and ran his hands through his hair. "I feel like I'm nothing but your boy toy, like you don't take me seriously."

"Castiel…" she sighed and shook her head. She looked like a teacher whose patience was being tried by an unruly student and that infuriated him even further.

"If you don't really care about any of this, just tell me," he said, stepping away from her. "Because if that's the case, then I have seriously misjudged what this relationship is."

Meg slowly turned her head back at him. She remained silent for a moment, her lips tightened in a fine, tense line.

"You good?" she asked in the end. "You got everything out of your system?"

Castiel stared at her, stunned by her words. Did she really not see how this was important for him? Or did she just not care about it?

"I can't talk to you like this," he concluded, throwing his hands in the air.

He briskly walked out of her office and put his own laptop in his backpack, leaving the company one that Meg had lent him over his desk. All the way towards the elevator, he was waiting for her to come after him, to call his name, to tell him she was sorry and that they needed to talk about this at length and found a solution.

But when he stepped outside of Fitzgerald and Masters, and Meg still hadn't come after him, he realized this fight has been graver than he'd thought. Could it be really called a fight? He had simply shouted his feelings at her and she'd stood there, watching at him in silence and refusing to give weight to any of his words.

That was bad. That was really bad.

He spent his shift at the coffee shop nervously doing everything at the same time, barely paying attention to the orders while he replayed the scene in Meg's office over and over. Why had she been so eager to have sex with him there? Had it been because he was talking to Jo? Was she jealous? That didn't make any sense. She knew she was the only woman he cared about. How could she possibly think that had been anything but a casual chat? Was that why she had spoken so coldly about Jo and her group?

He burned someone's pretzel and almost gave a full fat milk latte to someone who had ordered skim. He was a mess, but the thing was, he couldn't stop thinking.

Finally, his shift was over. He stepped outside of the coffee shop and breathed in the warm night air. Maybe he was blowing things out of proportion. Meg had obviously been tired and not in the mood to have such a serious discussion. Perhaps it was best to wait.

His cellphone chimed inside of his pocket and his heart skipped a beat as he frantically reached for it. Was it Meg? It had to be her. She knew when his shift was over and probably hadn't wanted to bother him while he was busy…

It wasn't Meg and the disappointment was as pleasant as a punch in the gut.

_> Hey, it's Jo. Charlie found your phone in the employee's registry. I'm not sure if that's allowed or not._

The message was followed by a winky face. Castiel was about to put his cellphone back inside his pockets when the screen lit up again with a second message from Jo.

_> Anyway, I was wondering if you were going to join us tomorrow? We're having some beers and a poetry slam. It'll be fun._

Castiel thought about texting Meg or maybe call her, let her known that he was considering it. But he was still anxious and more than a little pissed off at her and like she had said, he didn't need her permission to decide what he wanted to do.

_> Yes. I'll be there. Can I bring my friends as well?_


	8. Chapter 8

Benny turned out to be a secret poetry lover, so he accepted Castiel's invitation right away. Dean, on his part, was a little more hesitant.

"I don't know, Cas. That doesn't sound exactly like my scene…"

"It's a bar where they serve craft beer and two of my single coworkers will be there."

That was a bit of misinformation. He had no idea if either Jo or Charlie were single or would be interested in Dean, but the idea of alcohol and chicks was enough to entice him.

"On the other hand, it's never too late to step outside of your comfort zone, right?" he said. "Sammy, what about you?"

"Sure, it sounds like fun," Sam said from the kitchen, where he was doing the dishes even though it was actually Dean's turn. "Maybe we can finally meet Castiel's girlfriend."

The comment prompted Castiel's eyes to dart at his phone. After he'd stormed out of the office the previous night, Meg had been radio silent, not even asking him if he was going to go to her home later that night or anything of the sort.

"Uh… I invited her, but I don't think she's coming."

He scratched his arm and then looked at Dean and Benny, who were drinking their beers and Sam, who was busy making the kitchen presentable. Despite how little chances he had to see them, he had come to appreciate his friends and their opinions greatly.

"We actually kind of… fought, right after I did," he explained.

"What about?"

"I don't think she wanted to come with me," Castiel said, hesitantly. "She didn’t want me to go either. She would've preferred I spent the night and evening at her place like I do every weekend."

"Well, that's not healthy," Sam said, frowning.

"Yeah." Dean turned his head towards Castiel, frowning. "Dude, if I had to choose between poetry and copious amounts of sex…"

"That is not what I meant. Jesus, Dean." Sam rolled his eyes and dried his hands on a cloth before he moved to sit on a chair in front of Castiel. "Don't pay attention to him. Couples don't have to spend all their time together."

"No," Castiel said, relieved that Sam agreed with him. "No, of course not. Just because we're together doesn't mean we stopped being individuals, right?"

"Exactly." Sam nodded. "Just because she didn't want to go doesn't mean you shouldn't get to."

"Then again, the weekends are the only times that you get to see your lady outside of working hours, right?" Benny asked, putting words to the annoying thoughts in Castiel's mind. "So if she wants you all to herself during those times, can you really blame her?"

Dean hummed the theme song of a cheap porno and Sam raised his eyes at the ceiling, as if he was asking for heaven to grant him some patience.

"Well, if she wanted to be with Cas, she could have come to this outing. Relationships are a two-way street. They don’t have to always do what she wants.”

"I mean, he doesn't _have to_ ," Dean said, with a shrug. "But it's better to just do it to avoid any troubles, am I right?"

"That is so unhealthy I don't even know where to begin, Dean." Sam huffed.

But even as Sam protested Dean's philosophy, Castiel was panicking slightly. He checked his phone. Meg still hadn't sent him any sort of message. It was almost midday, but she hadn't asked if he would be dropping by her house and he didn't want to be the one to text first, because he hated the idea of having to...

Benny patted him in the shoulder and Castiel snapped from his thoughts suddenly.

"You're spiraling, brother," Benny said, pushing a can of beer towards him. "So you had a fight with the girl. Big deal. Couples fight."

"But she's not talking to me now," Castiel explained, waving his cellphone miserably.

"Give her space. If she got mad at you, it's better to wait a little while for her to calm down before you try talking to her again," Benny recommended. His southern drawl made everything that came out of his mouth sound incredibly wise. "But don't just ignore the problem the next time you see her. That will only make it worse. For now, let's just go to this poetry slam thingy and try to enjoy ourselves."

Castiel tried to follow Benny's advice, but as the afternoon went on and the hour in which he was usually at Meg's home came and pass by, his anxiety only increased. He couldn't focus on the card game he was playing with his friends and kept losing hand after hand even when he had a better hand than them. Thankfully, they didn't point out how out of it he was and deliberately talked about anything (football games, Sam and Dean's mother who wanted them to come home to Kansas that Christmas, Benny's savings to buy a boat) except relationships and his girlfriend.

At around five o'clock his phone chimed and Castiel almost jumped from his chair, but it was a message from Jo reminded him the bar's address and asking him (again) if he would be there.

Dean put his cards down and stretched his arms above his head.

"Better get going, right?"

Forty five minutes later, they were all settled in his old Chevrolet Impala. Castiel, in the backseat, kept touching his cellphone until Benny straight up took it from him and put it away in his own pocket.

"I'm confiscating it," he said when Castiel protested. "Trust me, I am doing you a favor. You don't want to have this thing in your hand after you add a couple of beers to the state you're in right now."

No matter how much Castiel insisted, Benny refused to give it back, not even when they arrived to the bar and looked around but didn't spot any of Castiel's co-workers.

"I'll just text Jo real quick to know where they are," Castiel said. "Benny, come on, it's not like I'm trying to..."

"Does Jo happen to be blonde?" Benny asked.

Castiel was surprised he knew that until he turned around and saw Jo herself beckoning him from a table with Charlie and Ash.

"You made it!" she exclaimed happily and wrapped him in a quick hug.

Castiel stood very rigidly, with his arms hanging loose at his sides, startled by the enthusiasm she displayed. Why was she doing that? They weren't actually friends and he didn't think just showing up to a poetry slam thing meant all that much.

But when she stepped back and smiled so candidly at him, he couldn't help but to smile back. She was a very nice girl after all.

"Yes. Are we late?"

"No, it hasn't even started yet. Charlie and Ash are saving us a table and… wow!" She stepped back, eyeing the Winchesters and Benny. "You didn't mention that your friends were so big!"

Dean smiled wide at that assessment.

"We're perfect to chase away any guy who gives you trouble, missy."

Castiel couldn't tell if he was joking or not, but Jo laughed anyway.

"Well, come on. We're going to be a little tight but the more, the merrier, right?"

That was a little bit of an understatement. They had to put two tables together and they had to keep in mind that at least Charlie, Jo and Ash would read their poetry that night, so they changed seats at least three times before everyone was accommodated to their hearts’ content. Castiel ended up sandwiched between Jo and Benny.

"Hi," Dean told Charlie, flashing a smile at her.

"Hi?" Charlie frowned, a little confused.

"What are you drinking? Can I buy you one?"

"Umh… okay, dude, I don't mean to disappoint you, but I'm a lesbian," Charlie said.

"Are you really?" Dean asked and Castiel found himself at the receiving end of a glare he pretended not to notice.

"Yup, but you can still buy Jo a drink," Charlie continued. "She hasn't got laid in six months."

Jo threw a beer cap at her that somehow ended up hitting Sam on the temple. He made a squeaking sound that was more out of surprise than out of pain and suddenly, everyone in the table was laughing in good cheer. The ice had been broken and soon they were all talking and joking as if they had known one another for years.

Castiel tried joining them, he really did. But between his natural introversion and the fact he was still very much thinking about Meg (not all the time, more like a constant buzz in the back of his head that he only heard if the conversation halted and gave him time to focus on it), he ended up feeling like he talked very little and finished his pints faster than everyone else.

At some point, the bar's lights became dimmer and all the loud conversation and noises from the tables quieted down. A woman with flowers in her curly hair stepped on the stage and invited the first person on her list to come up to the stage.

He found it easier to focus on the poems than it had been on the conversation. He could appreciate the turn of phrases, the metaphors, the rhythmical words that spilled out of the poets' mouths. The poems ranged from humorous to tragic, and many of them had social themes. Ash's was a very nice one that compared technology to magic and Charlie read about how disappointing it was to find the girls she sometimes crushed on tuned out to be not interested in women at all. It was funny, but with an undercurrent streak of isolation and fear. He thought it was very smart and tried telling her that when she returned to the table, but after all the beers he'd had, all he could do was slur "Well done" in her general direction.

"Thanks," Charlie laughed. "You gotta listen to Jo's, though, they're awesome."

"I'm sure," Castiel muttered, smiling back when Jo turned to him. "I, uh... I gotta go to the bathroom real quick before that."

"Okay!" Jo stood up to let him through. "Don't take long. I think I'm up next."

Castiel promised he would be right back. Well, he would attempt to, because standing up and walking was a bit of a challenge. His legs couldn't seem to coordinate and he kept bumping into tables and chairs and having to apologize to people who glared at him. At some point, someone grabbed him by the elbow to help stabilize him. When Castiel looked up, he realized it was Benny.

"You have no head for alcohol, brother," he commented.

"Sorry," Castiel said, though he wasn't too sure what he was apologizing for. It was true, he usually didn't have more than a beer or two and he was way past the tipsy stage in which he usually stopped drinking.

Benny walked with him to the bathroom and took the stall next to his.

"She's very into you," he commented.

Castiel was so focused on what he had to do and in trying not to fall over while doing it that it took him a moment to realize Benny was talking to him.

"Meg? Yeah… she's my girlfriend," he muttered.

A second later, he wanted to kick himself. He hadn't told the guys her name for a reason and now they could let it out in front of the other interns and they could put two and two together...

He forced himself to calm down. There were many Megs in the world, he was sure. He could always pass it off as a strange coincidence.

"No, I mean Jo," Benny clarified. "She keeps making eyes at you."

Castiel flushed and came out of the stall to wash his hands, relieved at how much lighter his body felt.

"Oh, her." Castiel finished washing his hands and held on to the sides of the sink. "I mean… she's… nice."

"But she ain't your girl," Benny guessed. "Damn, you're really head over heels for this Meg chick, ain't you?"

"I…" Castiel started, but he didn't know what to say besides that.

He did like Meg, a lot, that wasn't a question. He had experienced things with her that were beyond his wildest dreams. If he was in his right mind, maybe he could write a poem or two about her and the way she made him feel. He wasn't sure it was love, exactly. They hadn't been together for a month and his internship was ending at the end of August and she was mad at him and everything was a mess.

But he was sure that he wanted her to be there that night. He was sure he'd rather be there with her than dodging Jo's advances as politely as he could.

"I don't know what's gonna happen," he told Benny, sadly. "She was so mad at me..."

"Brotha', come on. Relationships don't end because you had one fight," Benny said. "Not serious ones, anyway, and certainly not this one."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Well, for one, she already texted you twice," he said, taking Cas' phone out of his pocket.

Castiel wasn't sure what happened next. He suddenly found himself on his knees on the floor, with his hand extended towards Benny. His best guest was that he had tried jumping towards him to get the phone, but his feet had tangled and gravity had done the rest. He was so focused on trying to get to the phone he didn't even feel the hurt in his knees.

Benny grabbed him by the arm and helped him up. He said something, but Castiel paid no mind. He was too busy forcing his fingers to coordinate to punch his password.

_> If you want to come after the poetry thing is done, just let me know. I'll be up late._

The second one was briefer:

_> If you don't, that's fine. I'll see you on Monday._

"No," Castiel muttered, desperate. "No, no. She must think I'm angry with her. I can't wait until Monday. I have to go see her now!"

"Well, okay," Benny said, apparently a little surprised by his vehemence. "Go then. I'll make up some excuse for you."

He didn't have to tell him twice. Castiel made his way out of the bar, bumping into even more chairs and gaining even more angry looks, because there was someone reciting onstage and he figured he was being rude by interrupting people's appreciation for it.

It wasn't until he was in a cab on his way to Meg's home that he realized the person on the stage had been Jo. He really hoped Benny's excuse for him was a good one.

It didn't matter, though, because he kept eyeing his phone and trying to write Meg a text to tell her he was going to see her right now. But every time he made a typo or he found that his words weren't eloquent enough or didn't transmit the emotion he wanted (should he put a smiley face next to it to signify that he wasn't angry with her? Should he add a heart or something of the sort?), so when he'd finally redacted and sent a message that he found satisfactory, the taxi stopped and the driver announced how much Castiel owed him.

Castiel looked at the man with his hand extended towards him, look down at his cellphone (Meg still hadn't read his message) and then fumbled to get his wallet out of his pocket. He didn't have enough money.

"Umh... if you... can you wait? I think I'm gonna need to borrow money from my girlfriend..."

"This ain't porn world, kid," the driver told him, frowning. "I only take cash."

"Yeah, okay," Castiel said, a little baffled and confused. "I'll make sure to tell her that. Just wait five minutes."

He exited the car and made his way to Meg's gate. He pressed the intercom, only then thinking maybe he should have just called her to let her know he was on his way. What if she had already gone to bed? What was he going to do? He couldn't tell the taxi driver to take him home, no when the man already seemed so furious with him…

Hamlet's barking on the other side gave him hope. A second later, Meg's voice came through:

"Hello?"

"I didn't know that worked," Castiel said, surprised. Meg usually just opened the gate for him, not even bothering to check out if it was actually him. "What if I'm a burglar? Meg, you need to take care of yourself."

"Clarence?" Meg's voice sounded confused. "What…? Why are you here?"

"You told me to come," Castiel said. "Did you not want to see me?"

The silence that followed was disheartening.

"Look…"

"I understand if you changed your mind," he said, disappointed. "I'm sorry. I'll go home."

He didn't know exactly how he was going to do that and his alcohol soaked brain offered no good input. Maybe if he gave the driver all his money and apologized for not being able to afford the cost of the entire ride, he would take pity on him. Or maybe he would try to punch him. He certainly looked very angry. Castiel didn't think he would get very far if he tried to run and even if he did, he would have to cover the rest of his way home on foot and...

A miracle happened. The gate opened and Meg's silhouette appeared, holding Hamlet back by the collar. Her hair was a messy bun and she was wearing one of her sundresses and flip flops. So she really hadn't gone to bed yet.

"Cas, what the hell?" she asked. "Are you drunk?"

That wasn't an unfair question. Castiel looked at her and tried to think of something to say, but he couldn't. She just looked so beautiful like this, the frown between her eyebrows was adorable and he could just scoop her up in his arms...

The driver honked loudly.

"What's his problem?" Meg asked.

"Oh, yeah," Castiel remembered. "Uh, can I borrow twenty dollars? I was short on cash and I didn't realize…"

Meg sighed deeply and then, to his immense relief, she smiled softly.

"Yeah, okay. Go inside with Hamlet and I'll pay the good sir, yes?"

"Okay. Thank you, Meg."

He wasn't sure how he managed to make it inside of the house, but once he did, the couch seemed like the best place in the entire world to sit down and lay down his heavy head for a while. He didn't care about anything else. Meg wasn't mad at him anymore and that was all that mattered.

A few minutes later (or it could have been hours, he'd lost track of time after closing his eyes), he felt someone tugging his arm. He figured it was the dog, but when he tried to pet it, he found instead he was grabbing at his girlfriend's arm.

"Help me out here, Cas," she said. "We gotta get you to bed."

"I'm comfortable here," he protested.

"But the bed is much more comfortable and warmer," Meg said. "Don't you want to be warm, Cas?"

She made a very compelling argument. Castiel sat up and rubbed his eyes. It took a few seconds until he could find the strength to get on his feet, but Meg didn't let go of his hand at any point. Walking upstairs was a hassle, but she kept encouraging him and promising him she would let him hug her and kiss her once they were there, so Castiel made an effort to put one foot in front of the other and follow her. Later, he would be thankful for the fact that he at least wasn't drunk enough to vomit all over her, because that definitely would have ended their relationship for the worse.

Once in her room, Castiel turned around and attempted to kiss her (just because he always wanted to kiss her, just because she was so beautiful and wonderful), but she gently pushed him to sit down on the mattress and unbuttoned his shirt. It wasn't like she teased him and took his clothes slowly; it was clinical and efficient as if she wanted him naked as fast as possible.

"I don't… I don't think I can do anything tonight," Castiel mumbled apologetically.

"It's not like I expected you to," Meg chuckled, and pushed him down for him to lie down. "Come on, let's just go sleep."

Castiel hummed his agreement and let her tuck him in. When the mattress sank besides him, signaling that she'd got beneath the sheets with him, he blindly stretched his arms to hold her like he did every time he was there.

"I'm sorry I made you pay the taxi," he said. "I'm sorry I showed up here drunk."

“It doesn’t matter, Cas,” Meg whispered.

“It does matter. I don’t want you to think…”

“What?” she asked.

But Castiel couldn’t finish that thought. The darkness that had been growing on the edge of his vision finally won over and he give himself up to it.

 

* * *

 

He woke up the following day to a mild headache and a dry mouth. Meg wasn’t with him on the bed. She’d left an aspirin and a glass of water on the night table for him. Castiel gulped it down and went to the bathroom to make himself as presentable as he could. He usually brought stuff like his toothbrush and his razor with him whenever he came to spend the night with Meg, and then he took them again when he left for his home. He’d never considered the possibility of just… leaving them there.

Was that strange? Because they were together and he spent every weekend there. It shouldn’t be strange to leave some of his things there.

He was starting to realize why it made him so uncomfortable that Meg never let him do anything for her when they were there. But maybe it was best that he shared that epiphany with her.

He found her down in the pool. The sun was shining bright above her as she swam from one point to the other and then back again. Her arms raised above her head and fell, her powerful legs kicking the water to move faster. She was like a mermaid, Castiel thought as he sat down in one of the chairs by the deck. Like a beautiful creature in the water, moving just out of his reach.

At some point, Meg noticed he was staring at her so she turned and came swimming towards him.

“Hey,” she greeted him. She leaned on the side of the pool, but didn’t come out of the water.

“Hey,” Castiel replied, looking down at her. The curve of her breasts pressed by the bikini distracted him. They always made love in the semi-darkness, so to have the chance to look at her exposed body like this…

He shook his head. There were many things that they needed to talk about before he could let those thoughts run free.

“So, how was the poetry slam thing from last night?” she asked. She somehow managed to make her tone sound absolutely casual, as if it hadn’t caused the first big fight of their relationship.

“It was a disaster,” Castiel admitted. “I kept thinking about you, about our fight. I couldn’t…”

Meg grimaced. “I’m sorry I ruined that for you.”

“You didn’t ruin it,” he said. “I just… I really would’ve liked you to be there.”

Meg played with the water around her for a moment, pensively.

“Why was it so important to you?” she asked in the end. “I’m trying to understand here, Cas. I just…”

Castiel tapped his fingers against his knee for a moment. He guess this was a time as good as any to let Meg know what he was thinking.

“You know how you keep doing all these little things for me and telling me not to worry about them? That I’m a guest, that you want to pamper me? Well… they don’t feel like that to me.”

“Castiel…”

“They feel like you’re trying to keep your distance from me,” he continued. “Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate everything you’ve done for me and I love spending time with you. But you keep me at arm’s length, like I’m just someone… you’re spending your time with,” he finished, clumsily. He’d thought about it much cruder terms, but he didn’t want to say that out loud in case it offended her.

“You feel like you’re my boytoy, is that what you’re trying to say?” Meg asked.

Castiel figured there was no point in trying to deny it.

“I mean… you haven’t even talked to HR. We always do what you want us to. You have all the power in this relationship and I’m just… along for the ride.”

Meg didn’t even try to deny that was the case. She moved the water a little bit more and then sigh.

“Have you ever been cheated on, Castiel?”

It surprised him she asked that, especially because he knew for a fact that he hadn’t.

“I was married to Luc for twenty years. We had a daughter together, we built a life. _I_ built us a life,” she said, bitterly. “I was out there, busting my ass, making sure Garth didn’t sink his dad’s company, so Luc could do what he loved, write his poems and teach the brilliant bright minds of his students, so we could send Ruby to college and afford this house… and for the last four years of our marriage, it turned it was all a lie.” She sighed. “He was sleeping with a twenty seven year old exchange student named Lilith.”

She somehow managed to make her name sound like an insult.

“I’m sorry,” Castiel said, because he really didn’t think there was anything to say. That her ex was an idiot? That he had no idea the treasure he had tossed aside? That if he could, he would fight him right then and there for breaking her heart? He had the impression that Meg knew all of this already.

“As soon as Ruby graduated, he served me the papers and ran away to Paris with Lilith,” Meg continued. “We went there for our honeymoon. Can you believe his cynical ass?”

“No,” Castiel said. “I can’t believe he would leave you, either.”

Meg clicked her tongue and made a dismissive gesture with her hand, as if Luc’s abandonment wasn’t the worst part of all that story.

“I was with some guys before I married Luc, but the moment we said yes, I thought… this is it. There’s never going to be anyone else for me. I committed to our marriage, I really did. Even when it was hard, even when he said I was much too worried about things like work and money while he was this free spirit that had to have his artistic needs tended so he could freely create and what not.”

“I don’t mean to insult your daughter’s father, but he sounds like he is a bit of a douche,” Castiel commented.

Meg laughed at his assessment and shook her head.

“When Luc left me, it messed up with my sense of self for a while,” she explained. “I dated, but I wasn’t looking for anything serious… and then you walked into my office and gave me a stupid bee plush.”

“I maintain the bee plush was cute,” Castiel said, defensively. She laughed once more.

“If it feels like I’m holding you at arm’s length sometimes, it’s because I might be,” she admitted. “This is new territory for me too, Cas. And sometimes it scares me…”

The last words hanged in the air for a long silence. Meg wasn’t looking at him, her lips were tightened as if she couldn’t let the rest of that sentence out. Castiel watched her in silence, astonished. She was always so fierce, so fearless, that he couldn’t imagine that she would be afraid of anything.

“What?” he insisted after the silence went on for several minutes.

Meg slowly turned her head back towards him.

“It scares me how fast these feelings I have for you came,” she confessed. “It scares me just how jealous I was of that blonde girl who was making eyes at you.”

“Well, you have nothing to worry about on that front,” Castiel said. “I walked out in the middle of her performance. I don’t think she’s going to be too keen on me after that.”

Meg snorted and Castiel felt incredible satisfied at that. It felt like the air had been cleared. Not everything was solved, of course, they would have a lot to talk about yet. But he was happy that at least they were able to speak honestly with each other.

“What are you doing?” Meg asked when he started stripping off his shirt and pants. “Are you really coming in here in your boxers?”

“I don’t have a bathing suit,” Castiel excused himself.

The water was cool, but not excessively cold. It took a few seconds for him to adjust as he moved towards Meg and wrapped his arms around her. Her tanned skin glistened golden under the sun and her grin was wider than ever as she hooked her heels around his waist and he leaned over to kiss her on the neck.

“You are amazing,” he told her. “And I’m kind of selfishly glad that your ex-husband ran away with the French girl.”

“Oh?” She arched an eyebrow. “How’s that?”

“Because I’m sure he’s now being miserable in Paris without you, and I have you right here in my arms. And that’s more than I ever thought would be possible when I was admiring you from afar.”

Meg chuckled and leaned closer into him. And suddenly Castiel discovered there was a place in the house where they haven’t made love yet.

“Cas,” Meg protested as fingers fidgeted with the straps of her bikini. “The neighbors are going to see….”

“Do you really care about that?” Castiel asked, and Meg hummed, perhaps to indicate that she really, really didn’t.

“I’m gonna have to change the water of the pool,” she protested instead.

Castiel sighed and accepted that argument. He backed away from her and let her climbed up to the side of the pool.

“Come on,” she said, heading to the house. She stopped for a moment to unlace her top and tossed it carelessly to ground, leaving Castiel to admire her naked back. “We can still have some snacks before breakfast.”

Castiel almost tripped getting out of the pool and running after her.


	9. Chapter 9

It was better after the slam poetry night.

Castiel laid down a series of problems he had that needed to be solved and Meg acquiesced to most of them. She emptied a drawer in her closet so he could put his clothes and items in it. She let him help more around the house. She didn’t make any promises about when he could take her out, because she insisted they needed to talk to HR first. Castiel gave her the benefit of the doubt and it paid off: on Thursday, he received an email from a woman named Billie, indicating that he should come to her office right away.

When he popped his head on Meg’s office to inform her of that, she nodded.

“Don’t be nervous. Billie will understand,” she said.

Castiel wasn’t sure what there was to understand, but he rode down the elevator to the third floor where the HR department was. Billie turned out to be a tall black woman with curly hair and a silent presence that got Castiel sweating even before he sat down in front of her desk.

“So, as I understand it, you have begun a personal relationship with Miss Masters,” she said.

“Oh.” Castiel cleared his throat nervously. “Right to the chase.”

“I’m a very busy woman, Mr. Novak,” Billie replied. “Now, how would you define this relationship?”

“I… she… we’re… dating,” Castiel said, pathetically. Had Meg already talked to her? What had she said? “She’s my girlfriend.”

If she thought something about that, Billie’s face revealed absolutely nothing. She simply took some notes on the forms in front of her.

“I’ll tell you what I told her,” she said in the end. “Dating between coworkers isn’t strictly forbidden. It happens a lot that the interns begin dating between them and no one feels the need to inform it because it’s usually just a temporary thing. Summer love, if you will.”

Castiel took a few seconds to take in what she was saying. Had Meg failed to inform HR of their relationship before because she thought it wouldn’t last past the summer and the end of his internship?

“Now, the relationship between a boss and a subordinate, that’s a bit more delicate,” Billie continued. “You or her should have let me know as soon as it started. This is strictly a bureaucratic means of avoiding the headache of a harassment lawsuit.”

She sounded like a schoolteacher scolding him for not turning in his homework in time. Castiel lowered his eyes, but again, something about the way she phrased it called his attention.

“I… could have come to you?” he asked.

“Of course. Meg isn’t the only one in the relationship,” Billie pointed out.

Castiel couldn’t help but to notice that she was the second person who told him something of the sort this week alone. Billie looked around to make sure all her other coworkers were busy in their respective cubicles, leaned a little over her desk and spoke in a lower tone of voice:

“Just between you and me, though, I understand why she wanted to wait until I was back from my summer vacation. She knows I’m less likely to gossip about this.”

Castiel preferred to not take note of the fact that “less likely” didn’t mean “not at all”.

“And if I handle it discreetly, I might be up for a promotion when the old head of HR retires next year.”

She glanced to the side and Castiel followed her eyes. There was a door at the other end of the hallway with a frosted glass window. He thought he saw a dark, bony figure marching past it, but a second later Billie called his attention again.

“Kissing up to the boss has its perks, doesn’t it?”

Castiel blinked a couple times, confused as to what she meant by that.

“I…”

“The end of your internship is only a few weeks away,” Billie pointed out. “What are you planning to do once it’s definitely over?”

“I was planning to apply for a permanent position within the company…” Castiel confessed and suddenly he realized where Billie was going with this line of interrogation.

“And that has changed?” she asked him, arching an eyebrow. Her face revealed nothing, so Castiel wasn’t sure what she wants him to say right now.

“Well… Meg is of the opinion that I should go back to school in the spring, get a masters’ degree. I am considering my options,” Castiel said. “I wouldn’t want people to think I got a position here just because I’m dating the boss.”

He actually hadn’t really thought about the implications of that, but as he said it out loud, he figured it made perfect sense for that to be a concern for Meg. He’d thought she only wanted to sleep with him without any sort of further compromise. It was only fair that she wondered if he too had ulterior motives to pursue her.

He hoped they were past that now.

Billie analyzed his face in silence and nodded in the end. The edge of her lips twitched up in a soft smile. Castiel felt as if he had just passed some sort of test.

“Alright,” Billie said, taking more notes. “The only warning I have to give you is that you have to behave professionally around the office.”

Castiel thought about the couch in Meg’s office and what had transpired there. He hope his face wasn’t getting red.

“Of course,” he said.

“We’re done here, then.” Billie gathered her notes. “Have a good day.”

Castiel felt the weight of several eyes boring into him as he walked towards the elevator. He tried not to think that all those people were wondering what Mrs. Masters’ personal assistant was doing there.

Meg popped her head out of her office the minute he went back to his desk.

“How did it go?” she asked.

“It went well, I think…” he started saying, but he interrupted himself when he caught Jo out of the corner of his eye, heading towards his desk, balancing some more manuscripts and folders that needed Meg’s seal of approval.

“Hey,” she greeted him. She wasn’t smiling as usual and she immediately turned her attention to Meg. “Mrs. Masters.”

“Harvelle, isn’t it?” Meg asked, as if she didn’t know exactly who Jo was. “Good, I was waiting for that. Don’t entertain my PA too much.”

She turned around and walked inside, but Castiel thought there was some sort of joke underneath her words. Now that they were “officially” dating in HR’s eyes, she knew there was nothing to worry about concerning Jo.

At least he hoped he knew that.

“She hasn’t had lunch yet, has she?” Jo asked, cringing.

“No, this is normal for her,” Castiel said and Jo laughed a little, but it immediately died down. Her face took on a serious and concerned expression.

“Listen… about last Saturday…” she said.

“I should apologize to you,” Castiel interrupted her. “It wasn’t kind of me walking out when you were onstage and…”

“Oh, that.” Jo shook her head. “I actually forgot you did that.”

Castiel blinked a couple of times. He wasn’t expecting that. It had been pretty rude on his part and he was sure Jo would be furious with him over it.

“Well, I’m sorry nonetheless,” he insisted, but Jo made a gesture with her hand, as if she was dismissing the whole thing altogether.

“I actually wanted to talk to you about Dean,” she explained.

That got him even more lost. Was this conversation really happening? Was he asleep or had his short visit to HR teleported him into a different dimension?

“Dean?”

“Yes.” Jo eyed Meg’s office with apprehension and leaned a little bit closer to talk to him confidentially. “See, after you left, Dean and I… went back to my place together.”

“Oh,” Castiel said. And then when the implication dawned on him: “Oh!”

“Yeah.” Jo looked a little embarrassed, but she straightened her shoulders and lifted up her chin as if she was daring Castiel to say something about it. He didn’t, of course. “Anyway, in the morning, we exchanged phone numbers and he told me he’d call me.”

“I’m… glad?” Castiel said, hesitantly, because he didn’t know if that was the right answer that Jo was looking for.

Judging by the face she made, he figured he had failed to understand something fundamental about the situation.

“That was four days ago,” Jo said. She crossed her arms above her chest. “I wasn’t expecting him to like, call me the very next day, but a text would’ve been nice. He also hasn’t been answering mine.”

Castiel suddenly felt like he was short of air and pulled the collar of his shirt nervously.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” he stammered.

“I know you live with him, so maybe you can give him a message from me.”

“I… Jo, I don’t think I…”

“Tell him that if he wanted a one night stand, he could have said so from the beginning,” Jo said. Her tone was cutting. “He didn’t need to lie to me that he would call afterwards.”

Her brown eyes glimmered with barely contained fury. Castiel swallowed.

“I’ll… I’ll let him know,” he promised.

“Good.” The serious expression on Jo’s face vanished and was suddenly replaced by her usual friendly smile. “So, did you have a good time?”

Castiel took a few seconds to recover from the whiplash.

“Uh… yes. It was… different.”

“Maybe we should do it again sometime,” Jo proposed. “Maybe this time you can bring your girlfriend along.”

“I guess we’ll see about that,” Castiel answered.

Jo made a couple more inane comments about work and the weather and finally left. Castiel was under the impression she was trying to smooth over her harsh words to Dean, but they were firmly imprinted in his mind nonetheless.

He sat down on his chair and Meg popped her head out of her office. She took one look at him and smiled, amused.

“Miss Harvelle gave you a hard time for leaving her presentation early, huh?”

Castiel decided to let her think so.

 

* * *

 

Dean didn’t take Jo’s message well that night when Castiel informed him of it. In fact, he choked on his beer, causing Sam and Benny to laugh uncontrollably.

“That’s what you get for leaving us stranded while you went home with Blondie,” Benny said, leaning back in his chair and taking a sip from his beer.

“Karma’s a bitch, bitch,” Sam told his brother, smugly.

“Oh, come on, guys, it’s not like… you know that I wouldn’t… it’s not like that,” Dean protested while Sam and Benny toasted silently. “Cas, help me out here.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” Castiel said. “You embarrassed my coworker, which in turn created a very embarrassing situation for me. So it’s only fair that you suffer some embarrassment for your womanizing and dishonesty.”

He was being completely serious, but Sam and Benny reacted as if he’d just told the most hilarious joke in the universe. Dean rubbed his temples, exasperated.

“It wasn’t like that!” he insisted. “It was weird, okay? We went back to her place, we had a few more beers. We were really, really drunk…”

“So far this doesn’t sound any different from your other hooking up stories, let me tell you,” Sam commented. This time, even Castiel had to admit that was a little funny.

“But it was,” Dean insisted. His ears were red, but he pressed on nonetheless: “We started making out, things got heated, we went to her room and then… well…”

Dean fidgeted with his bottle of beer while his audience awaited for the rest of the story, expectantly.

“And then… nothing… happened,” Dean concluded, his voice lowering until it became a barely understandable mumble.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” Sam asked. Castiel knew he’d heard Dean, so he was only repeating the question to humiliate his brother further.

“Nothing. I couldn’t…” Dean repeated, but Sam and Benny burst into laughter once more. “Fuck you, guys. I had too much to drink that night, it could happen to anybody…”

“You ditched us to get laid and you couldn’t even do that?” Benny said. “That’s rich, brother.”

It was a strange thought that before he met Meg, Castiel would have been slower to catch on to what Dean was saying.

“So you’re not communicating with Jo because you weren’t able to… satisfy her?” he asked. At that point, he had to assume that Sam and Benny would laugh whether what he said was funny or not. They were just reveling in Dean’s misery that much.

“Hey, I offered to… satisfy her in a different way,” Dean said. His face was so read that Castiel wondered if he wasn’t getting a little lightheaded from all the blood rushing up. “I’m a gentleman, okay? But she said, no, we could wait a while, so we laid down in her bed together and we… talked.”

That finally managed to quiet down Sam and Benny’s giggles.

“What?”

“We… talked. For hours, actually. I don’t know, we must have fallen asleep at some point, but… we did nothing except talk.” Dean sighed and fidgeted with his beer. “So there you have it. It was weird and that’s why I’m not texting her back.”

“What’s weird about that?” Sam frowned. “Is it because you actually connected to a girl in a human level instead of just treating her like a piece of meat?”

“I respect girls who are kind enough to get in the sack with me,” Dean protested. “This wasn’t like that. And you know I don’t do the whole lovey-dovey relationship thing. It’s better that way. I mean, I can’t even afford to have a decent place to take her. Where am I going to sleep with her? Here with Sam’s gases in the middle of the night and Cas’ dirty socks in the living room?”

Those remarks were met with dead silence, though the look Dean threw them indicated he expected them to laugh at them.

“Oh, brother,” Benny said in the end. “You got it bad for this chick.”

“No, I don’t!” Dean said. “I’m not the love struck idiot. You’re confusing me with Cas!”

Castiel tried to sink in his chair, but luckily for him, Sam and Benny weren’t done roasting Dean about his sudden and consuming crush on Jo.

“If you’re thinking how you’re going to accommodate a long-term thing in this chaos, that means you actually care about her and you’re scared to death to text her back,” Sam determined.

“I am not!”·Dean continued denying. “Dean Winchester doesn’t get scared, okay?”

Benny hummed skeptically and Sam shrugged, as if to say that Dean could say whatever he wanted, it wouldn’t change their minds at all.

“I’ll prove it to you!” Dean insisted, taking his cellphone out of his back pocket. He typed on the screen quickly. “There!” he exclaimed, holding the cellphone up so they all saw that the message had actually sent.

A second later, his phone chimed with Jo’s reply and Dean grew pale. Sam and Benny exchanged another toast and decided to call it a night.

Castiel picked up the beers and the cards and made an effort to make the kitchen look presentable. Yes, he was a little messy, but he didn’t leave his dirty socks in the living room.

Dean didn’t even seem to notice that his friends had even got up, too busy texting as if his life depended on it. After a moment, he set down the phone on the table with a sigh.

“Okay,” he muttered. “She’s a little mad at me, but I think I can still save this thing.”

“Are you interesting in salvaging it at all?” Castiel asked. He was confused. A second earlier, he could have sworn that Dean had no interest in spending any more time with Jo. Had he read the situation wrong?

Apparently, he had, because Dean leaned back on the chair and scratched his neck.

“I mean, maybe? I don’t know. Sam was right,” he admitted. “I was freaked out. I am freaked out. But that’s just how it is, isn’t it? Weren’t you freaked out when you got together with… what’s her name again?”

Castiel was about to avoid the question or flat out lie, but then he remembered… he had no reason to. HR was aware of their relationship. Even if Dean connected the dots, it was unlikely that this would be any trouble for him.

“Meg,” he said. There was something liberating about saying her name out loud. Dean didn’t react at all, which gave Castiel courage to continue: “Yes, I was freaked out. But it was for different reasons. There was a lot to consider.”

“But it worked,” Dean replied. “So hey, if there’s hope for you, all the more reason to believe I can get this right.”

Castiel really didn’t mean to burst his bubble, but now that the topic had come out, he was wondering…

He turned off the tap and turned around, leaning on the kitchen counter as he chewed on what he planned to ask next.

“How do you… know?”

“Know what?” Dean asked, distractedly fidgeting with his phone, as if waiting for Jo’s answer was far more interesting than anything Castiel had to say.

“If you… like her,” Castiel explained. “If you truly… if it’s real.”

That gave Dean pause. He slowly raised his eyes at Castiel and narrowed them.

“Why do you think I would know something like that?”

“You’ve had more relationships than me,” Castiel explained. “And just now, you were talking about Jo as if… I don’t know. I just… I had never…”

Dena stretched his hand and patted the chair next to him, like a teacher asking a student to have a seat. Castiel did, somewhat nervously. His friends had all been giving him advice on how to approach his relationship with Meg all this time, but this was somewhat different. This felt… more serious, in a way.

“Buddy,” Dean started, leaning over to watch Castiel’s face closer. “You talk about your girlfriend as if she’s the world’s eighth wonder. You’re in love with her. Don’t come at me with this crap.”

And as if that settled the argument, he turned his attention back to his cellphone. Castiel sighed and figured he needed to explain himself better.

“I do think she is wonderful,” he said. “And I enjoy spending time with her very much.”

"I feel a 'but' coming."

"But we never did that," Castiel confessed. "The staying up all night talking thing. In fact, it's rare that we talk at all. I mean, we do talk, but it's always about books or our jobs or things like that. We very rarely share… personal things."

He hoped he was making sense. He didn't want to share certain details with Dean, like the fact Meg had only opened up and talked to him about her ex-husband after their fight or that she almost never mentioned her daughter in front of him. Castiel wasn't sure he even knew her name.

Dean nodded, understanding.

"But you do other things, right?"

"Oh, yes. Plenty."

"Alright, you don't have to rub it in my face," Dean snapped, annoyed. He tapped his fingers on the table, as if he wondered what would be the best response to give to Castiel. "Look, not all couples are created equal, okay? For some the whole cheesy all-night conversation might not really work. For others is more about a quiet understanding, you know? It's other things that make a relationship work."

"Things like what?"

Dean glanced at the room's door, as if to make sure that Sam wasn't coming out to interrupt their conversation. Castiel had the feeling he just didn't want to reveal to his brother to realize that he was more than just a womanizer, because the next thing he said was incredibly thoughtful:

"Long term compromise. Like, she likes tea, you like coffee, so you agree to get both for breakfast. Or like, she cooks, you wash the dishes. You makes plans about the future… what are your plans for the future, anyway? Are you staying here, are you going back to your hometown?"

"I'm… not sure yet.”

"Well, you need to figure that out. And you need to figure out if you want to maintain a long distance relationship and how you're gonna go about it, because that shit is hard."

Castiel nodded.

"I see."

"And you need to make sure she gets along with your family," Dean added.

Castiel blinked at that assertion. It hadn't even occurred to him this was something that needed to consider. He talked regularly with Hannah, but he had so far neglected to mention his relationship with Meg. Mainly because he didn’t know how to bring it up without upsetting his sister. How would she react to it? Would she be worried about the age gap, about the fact Meg was his boss?

"Is that really necessary?" he asked, nervously.

"Hell, yeah. Family always knows if it's going to last or not. I swear, my mom has like a crystal ball or something. One time, I was dating this girl, Carmen, and I was crazy about her…"

He regaled Castiel with the tale of Carmen and how their relationship had eventually crashed and burned, as it was accurately predicted by the illustrious Mary Winchester months in advance. Castiel wasn't sure that was the story he needed to hear when he was questioning the very foundation his own relationship was based on, but he appreciated all of Dean's advice nonetheless.

"Thank you. You've given me a lot to think about."

“Yeah, you chew on that,” Dean said. His cellphone chimed again and he smiled as he picked up and read the message. “Gotta take this.”

The apartment wasn’t big enough for anyone to have much privacy and technically, since the kitchen and the living room where Castiel slept where one single space, Dean was in his room. Castiel stood up and went to take a shower to give him some time alone anyway.

Under the water beating over his head, he had time to think about all the things that Dean had said. Meg had taken the first step in showing him she was serious about them being together.

It was only fair that he took the next one.

 

* * *

 

Sunday morning found him in what was quickly becoming his favorite place in the entire world: Meg’s bed. Not only was it softer and more comfortable than his futon at the Winchesters apartment, not only he got to wake up to the morning light seeping in through the window, he also got to turn around and put a hand around Meg’s waist, kiss her softly on the neck to wake her up. She giggled and instead of pulling away or pushing him, she snuggled closer to him and mumbled that she needed “just another ten minutes”.

On lazy Sunday mornings with her, it was so easy to forget about all his worries and doubts. It was easy to just let his anxious thoughts slide away and just… be.

Maybe that was why he made his choice that Sunday morning, while Meg still was only half awake and toying with the brim of his boxers, with the smell of her hair invading his nose and the warmth of her body against his.

“I want you to come with me to Oregon, to meet my sister.”

He said the words in a single breath, as if hesitating a little more over them would cause to back down. Meg froze next to him and raised her head to stare at him, her brown eyes wide open in surprise.

“What?”

Castiel was pretty sure she’d heard him. He hadn’t whispered and in any case, they were close enough in the bed that even if he had, there was no way she didn’t hear him. So this reaction could only mean she was surprised because she wasn’t expecting anything of the sort. Castiel sat up a little against the pillows so he could talk to her face to face with a little more comfort.

“Next weekend is my sister’s birthday. I was planning on taking a road trip to go see her, take my manuscript with me so she could read it. She is my first reader and I want to know her opinion as much as I want to know yours,” he explained to her. “And I want you to come with me to meet her.”

Meg sat back on her heels, grabbing the sheets with her to cover her body, as if Castiel wasn’t already used to seeing everything there was to see. Perhaps she’d assumed, not unfairly, that it would be a distracting sight for him while they were trying to discuss something important.

“Are you serious?”

“Very much,” Castiel said. “I’m hoping you will like Hannah. And I’m really hoping she will like you.”

Meg ran her fingers through her hair, as if she couldn’t quite believe what she was hearing from him.

“Cas… that’s… that’s near the end of the month,” she pointed out.

“Yes, I am aware.”

“Your internship… you should be planning for your interview and preparing your CV if that is what you want to do…”

“I’ve already done that,” he assured her. “I had always planned to go visit Hannah this weekend, so I made sure to leave everything ready.”

He had never seen Meg so astonished. It was kind of cute, how she blinked owlishly and how she opened and closed her mouth several times, as if she couldn’t bring herself to say a word.

“Well… look at you,” she said. “What happened to the boy who ate hot pockets and forgot his flash drive in the company’s laptop?”

“Turns out he had a very strict boss who rub her organizational habits on him.” He smiled and moved to leave a soft peck on the side of her lips. “What do you say? Can we do this?”

Meg still wasn’t reacting and Castiel tried not to panic. He’d known from the start that a resounding yes to this plan was too much to hope to for, so of course he wasn’t expecting her to be on board with it from the beginning. He’d known she was still hesitant about many aspects of their relationship and the fact she hadn’t said no right away or laughed as if she thought it was a joke was encouraging. He needed to hold on to that while she sat in front of him, opening her mouth and closing it again.

“That’s… that’s a very serious thing, Castiel,” she ended up pointing out.

“I am very serious about this,” Castiel replied, grabbing her hand and pulling it for a kiss. “I’ve told you that.”

“Yeah, but we’ve only been together for three months. Isn’t it… a little bit soon?”

“Maybe,” he admitted. “If you don’t feel comfortable with it, we don’t have to do it right now. But it would really mean a lot to me if you met her.”

Meg licked her lips, lowered her eyes and then lifted them up again.

“I can’t think about this on an empty stomach,” she decided. “I’m gonna hit the shower and you can get started on breakfast. We’ll talk about it afterwards.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Castiel said, with a smile.

It was not that long ago that she would have forbidden him from helping himself to her kitchen and making any sort of meal. Even if she said no to visiting Hannah, Castiel could revel in the fact that she was at least allowing him to pamper her.

He turned on the coffee maker and broke the eggs to scramble them. He was humming to himself happily as he placed them on the pan and then on the stove. He allowed himself some optimism. Perhaps she would realize that it was a fun idea to have a road trip together. Perhaps she wouldn’t say no, but “not right now” and they could still go see Hannah during the holidays. Four months from now, perhaps Meg wouldn’t consider it “too soon”.

He heard footsteps behind him and smiled to himself.

“I’m almost done,” he said, picking up the pan. “Do you want orange juice…?”

He turned around and almost dropped the eggs all over himself and the floor.

The girl staring back at him was just startled at him. She stared at him with big, dark eyes and clutched her purse in front of her as if to shield herself from him.

Castiel didn’t have to guess who she was and why was she there. He recognized her olive skin and black hair from the pictures in Meg’s shelves. She was Meg’s daughter.

That didn’t make the encounter any more disconcerting. He realized with a jolt that he was wearing nothing but his boxers. He was used to walk around the house in either that or his pajama pants for he and Meg’s lazy Sundays, but now that there was this… intruder there with them, he suddenly became very self-conscious.

“Uh… he-hello?” he stammered.

“Who the hell are you?” she asked, taking a step backwards. “What are you doing in my house?”

“Please, calm down,” Castiel tried to say.

The girl took a step backwards, dug inside her purse and showed him a little can of what Castiel could only assume was pepper spray.

“Don’t come any closer!” she warned him. “Where’s my mom? Mom!”

“She’s upstairs,” Castiel said, pathetically, because honestly, what else was he going to do?

Still brandishing the pepper spray, the girl turned around and fled upstairs as she kept calling for Meg. Castiel’s first impulse was to follow her, but he didn’t think that would be good for her distress at all. He dropped the eggs on a plate and counted ten elephants before going upstairs as well.

The women’s voices came floating down the hall.

“And he just… he’s there, wearing nothing…!”

“Ruby, I need you to calm down,” Meg said. It sounded a lot like her matter-of-fact boss voice that she used when she expected her subordinates to get something done ASAP. “He’s not a stranger, okay? He’s just Castiel.”

“Just Castiel?” Ruby repeated. Her voice sounded high-pitched, as if she was on the edge of a panic attack. “Who the hell is Castiel?”

Castiel popped in his head through the door just in time to hear Meg say:

“My… he’s my… boyfriend.”

His knees grew a little weak at that. He had referred to Meg as his girlfriend practically from day one, but she had never done the same. Not in his presence, anyway. And just that she thought about him that way made his heart thrum in his chest. He stared at the back of her head, her damp hair dripping down on the bathrobe she was wrapped in, and the only thing that stopped him from running in there, take her in his arm and kiss her until they were both out of breath was Ruby horrified glance.

“Your… are you kidding me right now?!”

So she was not taking it well. Castiel cleared his throat loudly to make his presence known. Meg turned to him with a tired glance.

“Sorry to interrupt,” he said. “I need my… my clothes.”

Meg looked down at his boxers and grimaced.

“Yes, of course,” she mumbled. She moved to open his drawer and took out his jeans and a clean shirt.

“Are you kidding me?!” Ruby repeated, looking up at the sky as if she expected an angel to descend from the heavens and tell her that this was in fact all a nightmare.

Meg ignored her as she placed Castiel’s clothes in his arms.

“Can you go change in the guests’ bathroom? Ruby and I have some things to discuss,” Meg said.

“Yes, of course.” He tried to smile in Ruby’s direction, but all he got was a fierce glare from her. “I… I’ll be downstairs if you need me.”

“Yeah,” Meg said and gently pushed him away before she closed the door in his face.

As he walked away, Castiel managed to hear Ruby shouting again:

“Mom, have you lost your fucking mind?!”

So… there was that.

Obviously, she was not taking it well at all and, well, Castiel couldn’t blame her.

But at the same time… Castiel realized once again how little he knew about Ruby in general. Other than being vaguely aware of her existence and the fact she was maybe eighteen or nineteen years old, he had no more information about her. He didn’t know if she was in college, or what was she studying or where had she been all summer. Meg just never… mentioned those things to him, even though he’d told her a quite a bit more about his parents and Hannah.

He felt weird about that. On one hand, Meg had always been protective of her privacy and he had respected that for her sake. But on the other… shouldn’t he know these things? Especially since they’d agreed to be more open with one another?

The questions plagued him. He couldn’t even distract himself with his cellphone, since he’d left it upstairs in Meg’s room. So he sat on the couch and patiently waited for Meg to come down. He thought with some vague sense of regret that his scrambled eggs were getting cold on the kitchen counter.

Finally, he heard footsteps on the stairs and stood up. Meg came down wearing one of her sundresses, but instead of being barefoot or wearing her flip flops like she usually did, she donned a pair of high heel white sandals.

“So… we’re… going out for brunch with Ruby,” she announced.

“Oh.” Castiel blinked and tried to readjust to this new scenario. “Very well. I’ll stay here and clean…”

“No,” Meg interrupted him and grabbed his hands. “ _We_ are going out. The three of us.”

His bewilderment prevented him from speaking for a second or two.

“I… I didn’t think… are you… sure you want me there?”

Meg looked away and for a second, maybe less than a second, Castiel could see in her face that she was terrified of the entire perspective. But after swallowing, she raised her eyes up and smiled with determination.

“Weren’t you the one who was all about meeting the families and whatnot?”

“Yes, but… I don’t think she liked me very much,” Castiel said, lowering his voice in case Ruby was somewhere she could hear them.

“Yeah, not the greatest introduction,” Meg said. She tried to keep a straight face, but after a second, the chuckles came out as if she was barely able to hold them back. “Fuck, what a mess.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No.” She placed a hand on his shoulder. “You have nothing to apologize for. If I had known she was coming, I would’ve given you some sort of warning.”

“Yes, well… I guess you’re warning me now?”

That made her laugh again and that sound made some of the tension in the air finally disappear.

“Look, I’ll tell you the same thing you told me: if you’re not down for it, it’s okay,” she assured him. “We can make the formal introductions at some other time.”

Castiel thought about it. And then decided that this was exactly what he wanted. This was what he had been begging for: for Meg to open up a little more to him and let him in her life in a more serious, permanent manner. So even though he couldn’t be sure that Ruby wasn’t gonna pepper spray him after all, he found himself saying:

“No,” he said. “Let’s go for brunch. How bad can it be?”


	10. Chapter 10

There were days when Castiel wished someone would shut his mouth.

Ruby came down, grabbed the suitcase she had abandoned next to the door and climbed upstairs with it, flat out ignoring Castiel’s offer to help her with it.

“She’s cranky from the jet lag,” Meg explained.

Castiel suspected it also had something to do with arriving to her mother’s house and finding a stranger in his underwear in the kitchen, but he tried to convince himself this was something one day they could all laugh about.

Ruby kept them waiting for another half hour while she showered and changed, during which Meg told Castiel where she’d been.

“She decided to spend the summer in France with her father,” she said. “I wasn’t expecting her to come back until September and even then, I was sure she wasn’t going to come home.”

“How come?”

Meg leaned against her kitchen counter with a sigh, sipping her juice.

“We… had a fight before she left,” she explained. “I was expecting her to stay mad at me for a lot longer.”

Castiel remembered that day all the way back at the end of April, when he’d caught Meg screaming at someone on the phone and then crying softly. That had been the first time he had seen her as something other than her boss. It was… strange, to think that if it hadn’t been for that fight with Ruby he never would have dared to engage Meg in any other level.

He didn’t say this out loud, of course, and much less when Ruby finally showed up again and announced she was ready.

“We’re going to that place I like in the boulevard.”

It wasn’t a question or a suggestion. It sounded a lot like a demand. Castiel eyed Meg, who simply sighed and followed her to the garage. Once again, Ruby didn’t ask as she walked around and installed herself in the passenger seat, confining Castiel to the back. Meg threw him an apologetic look but he smiled to reassure her that he didn’t mind.

The drive to the “place in the boulevard” was filled with awkward silence. Ruby kept her face turned away towards the window and said nothing.

“I…” Castiel started saying, but Ruby leaned over and turned on the radio to interrupt him. Castiel counted to ten and started again: “I just wanted to…”

Ruby turned the volume all the way up, to the point where the inane pop song that was coming out from the radio invaded Castiel very thoughts. Meg clicked her tongue and turned it off, but it was too late. Castiel had realized two things: Ruby had decided to hate him and she was not going to be willing to listen to what he had to say. It was a good thing to keep in mind.

They parked in front of a café with tables outside shaded by colorful umbrellas. A girl with a pink hairdo handed them the menus and with a smile that contrasted greatly with the foul mood in the table, reminded them to order whenever they were ready.

Ruby glanced over the menu and then left it on the table as if the last thing she cared about right now was the food.

“So… Castiel,” she started.

“Yes.” Castiel forced himself to smile at her and be courteous. “First of all, let me apologize for… frightening you.”

“You didn’t frighten me,” Ruby said, lifting up her chin in a way that reminded him a lot to Meg. It was very different, though: while in Meg it looked arrogant and proud, in Ruby it looked like she was purposefully trying to antagonize him. Like a little girl wearing her mother’s high heels and stumbling.

Castiel decided not to mention the fact that she had threatened him with pepper spray and moved on.

“Well, in any case, I feel like we might have started off on the wrong foot,” he said, extending his hand towards her. “So, let’s try again. Nice to meet you.”

Ruby eyed his hand as if she thought there was some sort of trap to it, but then she reluctantly stretched hers and shook it.

“Yeah,” she said, but she didn’t returned the sentiment.

The pink-haired waitress came back just in time to fill the awkward silence. She scribbled their orders in a notepad and walked off, which gave Ruby the chance to open another line of discussion:

“So how did you two meet?”

Castiel glanced at Meg. She had been so averse to reveal the fact that they were coworkers in the past (well, technically, she was his boss) that he wasn’t sure if he should answer this question. Meg, however, replied calmly:

“Castiel is an intern at the company. We work together.”

“Oh. Which means you work for her, right?” she asked, arching an eyebrow to Castiel.

“I mean, technically everyone works for her there,” Castiel said. His joke fell flat, but he already imagined that Ruby was going to be tough audience. “Yes, and she’s also been helping me loads with my manuscript.”

“Oh, you’re a writer too?” she asked.

Castiel had no idea what she meant with ‘too’. Was she referring to her father? Or was there something about Meg he didn’t quite know yet?

“Yes. I’m hoping to make a career out of it,” he said, honestly.

“But you know that’s not gonna happen overnight,” Meg added.

“Of course not.” Castiel smiled at her. She had given him the same warning many times before, to the point that it sounded a little like an inside joke at this point.

“I see,” Ruby said, coldly.

The waitress returned, settled their orders on the table and left with a reminder to call her if they needed anything. For a moment or two, the only sound on the table was of them adding sugar to their coffee. Castiel spread the strawberry jam on a toast and handed it to Meg. It was an unthinking gesture; he did it every morning when they had breakfast together. He didn’t realize that was reason Ruby scoffed and shook her head until she spoke again.

“Are you serious, _mother_?”

Meg tensed up in her chair.

“Why wouldn’t I be serious?” she asked, softly.

“First dad, and now _you_?” she continued. “Are you two dead set on humiliating me by dating people my age? Or did you just want to get back at him?”

Meg’s cheek became red. Castiel would’ve liked to argue that he was technically a few years older than Ruby, but he didn’t really believe that would make a difference, so once more, he deferred to Meg for an answer.

“This has nothing to do with you, Ruby, or with your father,” Meg replied. She sounded calm, but Castiel noticed she was holding her coffee mug way too tightly. “I wasn’t planning on this to happen. But Castiel… he’s just…”

She turned to him, her voice trailing off. Castiel looked back at her and in the moment their eyes met, it was as if every doubt he’d ever had about them, about what he felt, about whether she felt the same way, simply melted away. The way her eyes shone, the way her lips curved in a smirk even, like she didn’t even realize she was doing it, was all the confirmation he needed and more.

“He’s different,” Meg completed, in a whisper.

He stretched his hand over the table and grabbed hers. All other words became unnecessary.

Ruby, obviously, did not see it that way.

“Great,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Just great. Of course, he’s so different and so amazing that he’s obviously not just living at your house and using you to get a promotion. Or a network or an opportunity to get his stupid book published.”

The insinuation was like a punch in the gut. Meg didn’t let go of his hand, but the way her jaw clenched couldn’t mean good news.

“You take that back. Now,” she demanded.

“Why?” Ruby replied, grinning at Castiel. “I’m sorry, but that’s just the way it looks to me from here.”

“You don’t…” Meg started saying, but Castiel squeezed her hand. If Ruby’s problem was with him, he needed to address it himself.

“I understand that you’d be doubtful. You don’t know me. You can’t know what my intentions towards your mother are. But I assure you, Ruby, that I would never abuse my relationship with Meg in that way. I’m with her because she is an amazing woman and I…” He stopped, his voice trailing off. What he had been about to say, he wanted to tell Meg and Meg alone first. “… I cherish her,” he said in the end, “and I’m thankful she even considered to let me in her life this way.”

Ruby’s jaw was clenched, as if Castiel’s declaration had left her speechless for the time being. They ate in tense silence for a few minutes. Castiel started to relax a little, believing naively that while Ruby obviously still didn’t like him, she was going to respect their relationship and they could start working on getting along better in the future.

He should’ve known it wasn’t going to be that easy.

“Dad was thinking about coming back home,” Ruby commented after a moment.

Meg choked on her coffee.

“Why…?” She coughed a little and hit her chest with a closed fist. “I thought he was happy in France.”

“He lives in a bee farm, miles away from the nearest town,” Ruby explained. “Not exactly the glamorous Parisian life he’d imagined.”

Castiel was selfishly glad at that information. However, he couldn’t help but to notice the way Meg’s hand slip away from his. Her tone was still icy cold when she spoke:

“Well, he chose to move with Lilith over there.”

“Lilith is a bitch,” Ruby stated sharply. “Dad said he missed us.”

Meg’s face was expressionless.

“He could have considered that before he eloped with a girl twenty years younger than him,” she commented. There was such an undercurrent bitterness in her tone that it startled Castiel.

“You’re one to talk,” Ruby said, eyeing Castiel.

“That’s different. I never cheated on your father.”

Meg’s bluntness managed to shut Ruby up again, but it didn’t last long.

“He’s sorry,” she countered after a few seconds, in a much lower voice, as if she expected Castiel not to hear it.

“He can tell me that in person, if he wants me to really believe it,” Meg declared.

“Would you?” Ruby insisted. “If he came back and told you he was sorry, would you believe him?”

Castiel tried not to care about that answer. He tried not to think about what Ruby was really asking. She wanted her parents back together, as it was natural, but Meg had made it pretty clear that the way that Luc had treated her was unforgivable. Or at least that was what he’d thought he understood the single time Meg had brought it up.

Would she forgive him? Would she end what she had with Castiel if her ex-husband returned with his tail between his legs?

“That’s neither here nor there,” Meg said, instead.

Ruby scoffed, incredulous and furious.

“You would really turn down dad for this… this… stranger?”

“I’m not a stranger, Ruby,” Castiel tried to argue.

“You shut up,” she snapped at him. “This has absolutely nothing to do with you.”

“It has everything to do with me,” Castiel said. “I’m the one who is currently dating your mother and…”

“What, are you going to forbid her from seeing my dad?”

Castiel opened his mouth to answer that, even if he could do something like that, even if Meg was the kind of person who would stop doing something simply because her significant other wanted her to, he still respected her enough not to try something as selfish and insecure as that.

But he didn’t get to. Meg hit the table with her open palm, making the mugs and plates clink and tremble slightly. The patrons in the other tables turn to look at them with eyes wide open and even Ruby, who had been so defiant a second ago, leaned back on her chair and stayed quiet. Castiel felt as his heart had jumped from his chest to his throat.

“Stop it, both of you!” Meg demanded. She didn’t sound like a boss or like his girlfriend this time. She sounded like a teacher imposing discipline on her class or like… like a mother. “What transpires between your father and me is our business, Ruby. Same goes to you,” she added, pointing a finger at Castiel before he even got to say a word. "This isn't a problem that you can contribute anything to, Castiel."

It was so strange for her to call him by his full name outside of business hours that Castiel shivered a little, but lowered his eyes. The tension on the table was cut by the pink-haired waitress returning quickly and asking them if they needed anything else. She probably had noticed all the other patrons ogling at her.

"Just the check," Meg said.

"Let me pay for half of that," Castiel offered, but Meg kept the ticket out of his reach. She took out her wallet and placed the money on the table plus a generous tip. Afterwards, she stood up and told them they were going back home, even though she still hadn't finished her bagel.

She was still seething as they drove back and Castiel's stomach was tied up in a nervous knot. He couldn't come up with something to say to cheer up the situation and even if he could, he wasn't sure Meg would even want to hear it.

Heedless of the mood around them, Hamlet came trotting at them, wagging his tail and barking at them when they arrived. Castiel grabbed him by the collar and petted him, waiting until Meg and Ruby were inside the house. He just needed a moment to himself, to calm down, to think about what he was going to say to Meg next.

He didn't have to think about it too long. As it turned out, when he walked back inside, Ruby had disappeared upstairs.

"She said she wanted to lay down," Meg said. Her voice still sounded as if she was on the break of starting to scream at everyone and everything. "I apologize for her behavior."

She wasn't looking at him. She moved through the kitchen, putting away the dishes with the failed breakfast they'd washed before leaving and looking around as if she wanted something (anything) else to do, to keep her hands and her head busy.

Castiel cleared his throat.

"No, I apologize. I... you're absolutely right. This is a family business and I have no say in it."

"Thank you," Meg said with a sigh.

Castiel fidgeted with his fingers for a moment.

"But you won't… talk to him, will you?" he asked. "Luc. He…"

His voice trailed off. He realized, with a twinge of horror, that if Meg wanted to listen to what Luc had to say, if he came back and begged her to take him back, there was nothing Castiel could do to prevent that from happening. He wondered if his presence, if his relationship, would weight anything in her mind given that scenario.

But Meg shook her head.

"If it makes you feel better, I don't think we'll ever find out," she said. "I don't believe he's coming back."

"You think Ruby lied?" Castiel asked, a little surprised by Meg's bluntness.

"I don't think she lied, per se. She might have misinterpreted some things her father said." Meg shrugged. "You saw how she didn't take this very well, precisely," she said, gesturing towards him and then herself. "I have no guarantee it was any different with her father over there. For all I know, Luc is having the time of his life with Lilith."

That was a relief to hear. Yes, that might have been it. Just the sayings of an upset young girl who wanted her parents back together. She probably didn't know or didn't care about what that would do to Castiel, but then again, he didn't expect Ruby to like him right away. Or ever.

That was a problem for the future. For now, he was relieved to see that Meg wasn't mad at him.

"Well, I'm sorry this morning turned out this way," he said, walking around the kitchen island to grab her hand and pull her in closer to him. "Perhaps we can make the afternoon a little more pleasant."

"Yeah, about that…" Meg sighed and lifted her head up at him with an apologetic smile. "I don't want to kick you out, by any means. But I think it'll be better if you are gone when Ruby wakes up from her jet lag nap."

"Oh," Castiel said, unable to hide his disappointment.

"I'm not gonna lie to you. We're both very on edge and it could get ugly," Meg continued. "I don't want you to be here to witness that."

"It can't be worse than what I've already…" Castiel started saying, but a single tilt from Meg's head indicated him that all his protests would be useless. She wanted him out of there and well, he'd promise to always respect her boundaries.

So he sighed.

“Alright,” he said, kissing Meg’s temple. “But you have to make it up to me.”

“Oh? And how you intend I do that?” she asked, with a giggle.

“Say yes to coming with me to see Hannah.”

Meg’s body tensed up against the arm Castiel was holding her with.

“Clarence…” she started.

“Just think about it?” he requested. “Please? It can’t be worse that today.”

“I guess not.” Meg chuckled and then smirked at him. “Okay, I’ll think about it.”

That was as good a promise as he could get, so he took it. He let Meg walk him towards the door and kissed her goodbye.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said.

She didn’t answer to that, too busy holding back Hamlet and closing the gate at the same time. Castiel walked away, trying to convince himself that yes, it had been disastrous, but their relationship could survive it. He was going to stay in Palo Alto, working for the company, he would have money to afford a better apartment (maybe) and after Meg had met Hannah, the worst would be behind them.

At least, he certainly hoped he was right about all of that.

 

* * *

 

Meg was late on Monday.

That was the first thing Castiel realized when he arrived to his desk: Meg’s office was still closed, with the blinds drawn. He sat behind his desk and waited. He expected Meg to burst inside of there at any moment, complaining about how traffic was a nightmare and ordering him to bring her some coffee, all in the same breath.

But five minutes passed, and then ten, and then fifteen. Castiel sat at his desk and typed in his computer and basically twiddled his thumbs. After forty five minutes, he took out his cellphone and texted Meg asking her where she was.

His phone rang exactly a minute later.

“Hey, Clarence,” she said.

“Meg. Are you alright? You sound very…” he started, but he hesitated on how to finish that sentence. She sounded tired, but not tired like after a long day of work or like after they’d spent the night up or after she’d swam for several laps in her swimming pool. She sounded exhausted, as if moving a single muscle was going to break her apart.

And also hoarse. As if she’d been crying.

“I’m fine,” she said. Castiel had trouble believing it, but he didn’t press it. “I’m calling in sick today.”

“Oh,” he muttered, surprised.

In all the time he’d been working for her, she’d never called in sick. Even on days when he knew her workload was kicking her ass, she simply stuck her chin up and worked even harder. So this… this was out of character for her, to say the least.

“I’m sorry to hear that, are you…?”

“I’m okay,” she interrupted him. “I just… I need some rest.”

“Very well,” Castiel said, still a little confused as to what all of this was about. Perhaps she hadn’t been crying but she was genuinely just sick and that was why her voice sounded so weird on the phone. “Do you want me to come see you later? I can bring you some soup or…”

“Don’t worry about it,” Meg said.

Castiel had a very unpleasant deja vu.

“I do worry.”

“I know you do,” she replied. Her tone was a little lighter this time. “I just need you to stay there and guard the fort for me. Answer the calls, take the messages. Proceed as if I was there. Except, you know…”

“I know,” Castiel said. “Get some rest. I have this under control.”

That proved to be easier said than done.

It turned out to be true that Meg was the glue holding Fitzgerald and Masters together, because every single person who called in was either stunned speechless when Castiel told them she wasn’t available or descended into a sort of panic about deadlines and needing Meg’s approval to go on about the deal.

“What am I supposed to do?” Serra from Romance asked him nervously. “This needs a higher up approval seal so we can go forwards with the autumn collection!”

“Do you… want me to communicate you with Mr. Fitzgerald’s personal assistant?” Castiel suggested. That seemed like the logical step, right? He was also a boss and should have the same veto power as Meg about all of these issues.

Serra thought about it for a couple of seconds.

“Alright, yes, I guess we could do that,” she agreed.

Jo was startled when Castiel let her know what she needed.

“I… I mean, I don’t know if Mr. Fitzgerald is supposed to be making these choices…”

“Well, there’s no one else who can,” Castiel said and explained to her the Meg situation. Jo stayed quiet in the line for a moment.

“Transfer the call,” she said in the end. She sounded a lot like she was telling him to light up the fuse in a kitchen filled with methane gas.

Nothing happened in the next half an hour or so, so when Gordon from Mysteries called asking for Meg’s approval of something, Castiel did the exact same thing as he had done before and transferred it directly to Jo. After the third call that he transferred to them, Jo called him back.

“Mr. Fitzgerald wants to know if it’s really necessary that he takes all of these calls,” she asked. She sounded half-amused, half-baffled.

“Well, Meg… Mrs. Masters usually takes these and a lot more,” Castiel told her. “So… I’m sorry if this is inconveniencing him, but’s just… the job,” he said, hoping he wasn’t sounding too uppity about it.

Jo stayed in the line a moment longer, as if she expected him to say something else, but Castiel was really done explaining that the bosses were the ones who were supposed to do all of that.

“Okay, I’ll tell him that,” she said in the end.

Five minutes later, Castiel received a call from Mr. Fitzgerald himself.

“Castiel, wasn’t it?” he asked. “Look, I just need some help to get the hang of this. I don’t want to make a mess that Meg will have to clean up afterwards.”

“I understand that, Mr. Fitzgerald.”

There was a pause.

“So… maybe you can call her?” he suggested.

Castiel resisted the urge to ask him what part of “sick” and “can’t work today” he hadn’t got.

“Or… maybe I can go over there with Meg’s calendar and we can try to figure out the deadlines that are urgent and the ones that can wait for her return?” Castiel offered.

“Yes!” Mr. Fitzgerald sounded extremely relieved. “Thank you!”

It wasn’t until he’d hanged up that he realized he’d called Meg by her first name. Luckily for him, Mr. Fitzgerald seemed to make nothing of it once Castiel was actually there in his office. He just grabbed the calendar from his hands and started going through it with the face of a manic man.

“How does she keep everybody straight?” he asked, completely baffled.

“Do you want coffee, Mr. Fitzgerald?” Jo offered him.

“Yes, thank you. And, uh… Castiel can come with you too, if he wants,” he muttered.

Castiel wasn’t sure that was the order he meant to give, but he scurried unto the kitchen with Jo nonetheless.

“He’s completely lost, poor thing,” Jo laughed, softly. “I don’t think he expected all of this to fall on his lap.”

“Do you think he’d feel better if I tell him that usually Meg has already scrutinized most of these things and that all they really need is her ‘go ahead’?”

“Maybe, but don’t tell him just yet,” Jo said as she manipulated the coffee maker. “I’m having the time of my life.”

Castiel decided not to tell her just how sadistic that was. He opened his mouth to ask how things with Dean were going, but Jo moved on to a completely different topic that unbalanced him a little:

“So… do you think she eloped with her boyfriend?” she asked, with her eyes shining.

The question unsettled him.

“What?”

“Charlie told me that she went to fix the computers at HR and she said a file of a personal relationship disclosure,” Jos said. She was obviously rejoicing on sharing this gossip immensely. “She couldn’t read it all, but she said that Mrs. Masters is dating someone from the company who is much younger than her. Isn’t that just _weird_?”

“What’s… what’s weird about that?” Castiel asked, after clearing his throat nervously.

“I don’t know, I just… I didn’t think she would have it in her,” Jo explained, shrugging. “She always seemed so cold, you know?”

Castiel didn’t know what to answer to that, so he pretended to be very busy serving the coffee in the three plastic cups.

“So what do you think?”

“About what?”

Jo punched him in the bicep.

“About Mrs. Masters and her boyfriend!” she said, rolling her eyes as if she thought Castiel was being obtuse on purpose. “That’s big, right? You’re her personal assistant. You have to know something about the guy.”

Castiel probably could have got very existential about it (who could say they really knew themselves?), but he decided to just deny everything for as long as he could.

“I really don’t. Meg is a very private person.”

Jo laughed again as if he’d said a very funny joke.

“Since when is she Meg?”

He said nothing. Panic grew in his gut and he struggled to keep his face expressionless. He looked away and pretended to be very, very interested in his coffee all of the sudden.

That was probably what gave him away.

“Wait.” Jo took a step closer to him, so it was impossible to escape her gaze. She frowned at him, analyzing his face, and then her eyes shot open wide. “Wait a second…”

Mr. Fitzgerald burst into the kitchen.

“Okay, I think I’ve got the hang of this!” he announced. He took the cup of coffee from Castiel’s hand and gulped it down in one go, without any regards to how hot or how bitter it was. “Let’s roll, kids, there’s a lot to do!”

Luckily, he was right. They spent the rest of the day trying to figure out Meg’s notes and to give the answers to the endless parade of calls in the same manner as she would. It wasn’t easy, but it kept them busy enough that Jo couldn’t continue her interrogation on what Castiel figured was now a growing suspicion. He pretended he didn’t catch her staring at him, and when the work of the day was done and Mr. Fitzgerald told him he could leave, Castiel walked briskly until he was out of her sight and then fled towards his own desk.

He couldn’t have said why. Their relationship had been disclosed to HR and though Meg certainly wanted to avoid that sort of gossip, they weren’t doing anything wrong. So why couldn’t he turn back and tell Jo that yes, he was Mrs. Masters mysterious young boyfriend? He had been dying to shout out from the rooftops that he loved Meg…

He stopped in the middle of putting away his laptop, blinking at the empty office where Meg should have been. His heart was still racing, but he felt strangely calm. He supposed he had known for a while, perhaps even before they’d started their relationship. It had all been so intense and so different from the little he’d known that he hadn’t stopped for a second to question whether he’d been in love with Meg or not. He’d just… sort of been.

It seemed silly. Obvious.

It was really neither of those things. It was the reason he didn’t say anything to Jo. It was something so deep, so personal and new to him that he couldn’t really share it with her. There was only one person he needed to tell this to and that was Meg.

He loved her.

Elation followed his own stupid astonishment at the realization. He leaned over his desk and laughed like a madman. It was such a strange place and such a strange way to have an epiphany of this kind, but in a way, it made sense. After all, this was the place where he had first seen Meg, really _seen_ her for the first time as something other than her hardass boss.

He left the office with his heart still pumping hard and smiling like an absolute fool.

He was going to tell her that weekend. After having dinner with Hannah, he was going to take her out for a night stroll under the stars and he’d tell her. And she would smile in the way that she always did when he said something that could surprise her. He didn’t expect her to say it back right then, but it would just be enough for her to know it. She’d say it when she was ready and he was willing to wait.

The elevators doors closed just as Castiel sent a text asking her how she was. Even her brief answer made him smile.

He still had the unbeatable sensation that everything would be just fine. He convinced himself that after this weekend, everything would change for the two of them.

 

* * *

 

He spotted her on the way to the elevator early that following morning. She was carrying a plastic cup of steaming coffee and walking fast towards the elevator, so Castiel ran up to her and had to remind himself not to call her by her first name this time.

“Mrs. Masters,” he said, as he pushed softly to stand next to her.

She was wearing sunglasses, which was strange. She wore to drive sometimes, but usually she left them in the glove compartment of her car.

“Good morning, Castiel,” she replied and took a sip from her coffee.

Castiel didn’t have time to ask about anything else until the other people left as they reached their floors. When they were the only ones left, he extended his hand to graze hers, but to his great disappointment, she didn’t grab it. When the elevator stopped in the highest floor, Meg stalked out of it without waiting for him.

“Meg,” he called out, trotting behind her towards her office. “Wait. Is everything alright?”

“Everything’s fine, Clarence. Why wouldn’t it be?”

She opened her desk’s drawer, pull out a pack of cigarettes and placed one between her lips. Castiel watched in horror as she lit it on.

She hadn’t smoked in months. Practically since the beginning of their relationship.

She didn’t seem to think much of it, though.

“So, what’s on the agenda for today?” she asked, waving her hand.

Castiel stepped inside her office and closed the door behind him.

“Can we talk for a minute?”

Meg turned her head towards him. Castiel watched his own reflection in the dark crystals of her glasses. It was unnerving that he couldn’t know if she was looking at him or not.

“Yeah, okay,” Meg agreed in the end. “I guess we can talk for a minute.”

The dismissiveness in her voice, as if he was pestering her just by requesting a moment of her time, took him aback, but he decided to keep going:

“I just… I wanted to know if we’re still up for this weekend.”

Meg didn’t react for a second or two.

“Oh,” she muttered in the end. “Right. Your sister’s… thing.”

“Birthday,” Castiel corrected her, frowning. “Meg, please. Tell what’s wrong.”

Meg moved around her desk, taking long drags of her cigarette and sat on her chair, with the dignity of a queen taking place in her throne.

“No, we’re not up for this weekend,” she said, taking her glasses off. Her eyes were puffed and bloodshot when she looked at him, startling him. “I can’t go, I’m sorry.”

“Why not?”

Meg took one last, long drag before squashing the tip of her cigarette against her desk to turn it off.

“Luc called. He’s coming home and I agreed to meet with him on Friday.”


	11. Chapter 11

He’d heard her right. It was just that he couldn’t believe her words.

“What?” he asked, hoping the second time around she’d say something different.

But of course, it wasn’t.

“We had a long chat through Skype on Sunday night,” she told him. “That’s why I couldn’t come yesterday. Time zones and all that.”

“Meg.” Castiel shook his head, refusing to aid the fearful voice in his head that told him this was a disaster; that it was terrible for him, that she couldn’t possibly mean what he thought she meant. “What are you saying? Why are you meeting with him?”

“Because there were… there are still a lot of things that we need to work over,” Meg said, shrugging as if she was talking about a meeting to smooth out some details about an upcoming book release. “Last year, when he left, we were both very emotional and…”

“What is there left for you to talk about? He cheated on you!”

He didn’t mean for it to come off that forceful and desperate. He knew that Meg hated when people told her what to think or what to do and that it was not the way to endear himself to her right now. But he couldn’t help it: his heart was pounding fast and the whole room spun over his head. Not twenty-four hours ago, he’d been so happy and so sure of their relationship and now…

Meg’s eyes were cold when they came to rest on him.

“You don’t understand. You couldn’t _possibly_ understand.”

“Then explain it to me!” he demanded. “Meg, please. What is this? Are you… are you going back to him?”

Meg licked her licks and looked away, as if that question made her incredibly nervous.

“Twenty years, Castiel,” she said. “I was with him for twenty years. Feelings like that don’t just fade away. You don’t just throw away everything like that.”

“ _He_ threw it away when he ran,” Castiel argued. “You told me that. You told me…”

“Cas, stop.”

It didn’t sound like an order. It came like a whisper, like she was begging him to stop. She walked to the other side of the office, as if she couldn’t bear to even look at him. Castiel waited, holding his breath. He wanted to go after her, to grab her by the arm and turn her around, to ask her to say whatever she was thinking to his face.

“Meg,” he called her, softly. “Please, talk to me.”

Meg remained silent.

“What does this mean for us?” he insisted.

“I don’t know.”

That wasn’t an answer. At least, not the answer Castiel wanted to hear. He wanted her to say that it was a mistake, that yes, she was going to talk to Luc, but it was going to be to tell him to leave her alone, that she had found someone else to make her happy. He was trying not to get furious about all of this, but he just couldn’t… what right did he have…?

But of course he had a right. He had been Meg’s partner for almost as long as Castiel had been alive. He was the father of her child. Castiel stepped back and leaned against the door, because he didn’t think his suddenly trembling knees could hold him all by themselves.

“For what it’s worth,” Meg said, finally looking at him over her shoulder. “I’m really sorry, Cas.”

“You’re sorry?” Castiel repeated. He wanted to laugh, but the sudden pain in his chest was strangling him. “Really? Is that all you can say to me? After everything?”

“I wasn’t expecting…” she started, but then she shook her head and looked away again.

And that somehow made it all worse. After all those months, Castiel had been inching, begging for her to let him take a peek behind her walls, to just be Meg with him and he thought, somehow, that he had managed it, even if only for a little bit.

Now it was as if all her walls were up again and he didn’t know how to get past them.

All he could think about was telling her why dismissing him with a half-baked apology wasn’t going to be good enough for him.

“I love you.”

This wasn’t how he was planning on doing this. This wasn’t how he wanted it to come up, but he had no idea what else to say, what else to tell her for her to see…

And he was definitely not expecting her to laugh at him.

“You _love_ me?” Meg repeated, between chuckles that were like icicles flying straight to Castiel’s guts. “What the hell do you even know about love?”

“I…”

“Love is hard work,” she continued, finally turning towards him and approaching him in three furious strides. “Love isn’t weekend sex and random escapades and jokes all the time. It’s waking up every single day and choosing the person sleeping by your side, even when it isn’t easy.”

“And keep choosing them even after they hurt you?”

He didn’t mean to raise his voice. Meg’s eyes glimmered with rage and Castiel wished he had somewhere to run to, to escape the terrible anger in them.

“You have no idea…” she started, but she interrupted herself and shook her head. Almost like she didn’t want to talk to him again.

But Castiel wasn’t done. He couldn’t resign himself to being done.

“So was Ruby right?” he asked. “Was I just a summer fling meant to get back at him? Is that what this was to you?”

Meg slowly raised her eyes at him.

“If it helps you to think about it that way.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Castiel snapped. “It actually doesn’t, at all.”

She scoffed and crossed her arms over her chest.

“Why did I think this could work?” she muttered, almost as if she was asking the question to herself. “You’re so… naïve and idealistic. You have no idea what actual compromise looks like.”

And that was what hurt the most.

“How can you say that?” he asked. He had to stop to breathe in several times just to prevent his voice from breaking. “I have trying to be better for you. All this time, I’ve been trying to prove to you that I could be the man you need me to be, that I’m serious about this and everything else I want to do. I have been trying to show you just how much you mean… and you’re the one who’s always been pushing me away, holding me at arm’s length.”

“Castiel…”

“You’re the one who didn’t want this to be more,” Castiel continued. He didn’t know if his words were hurting her as much as hers had hurt him, but he needed to say them out loud anyway. “You were always scared. You’re going back to him because you’re scared.”

“Shut up!”

Her voice cracked like a whip in the air. Her eyes were red again and Castiel immediately regretted every single thing he’d said. The last thing he wanted was to make her cry. Now, he didn’t know how to take any of it back.

Outside, on his desk, the phone rang. He startled. It was a sharp reminder that there was a world outside, that there were things that needed their attention. It was hard to imagine there was anything more important than this conversation, but the phone kept ringing no matter how much Castiel willed for it to quiet down.

Meg took a deep breath, closed her eyes for a moment, and when she opened them again, she was once more Mrs. Masters, his boss.

“Get that for me, will you, Castiel?”

“Meg…”

“We have work to do,” she told him, sternly. “And I suggest we get to it.”

Castiel wanted to ask her if they were going to keep talking about this afterwards, but he suspected what the answer was going to be anyway.

He marched to his desk and sat down. He gave himself a moment to breathe deeply and then picked up:

“Mrs. Masters office.” His eyes travelled to her once again, as if they were drawn by a magnet. She had her back turned on him again. “How can I help you?”

 

* * *

 

Later, Castiel wouldn’t be able to say how he survived that day. It was as if he was trapped in a sort of haze: his body kept moving, his mouth kept making sounds, but he was elsewhere. He saw it all with detachment, with a numbness he just couldn’t shake off.

When he’d broken up with Daphne, it hadn’t been like this. Months before they graduated, they both knew they were going their separate ways: Castiel was getting ready to move to Palo Alto and she had volunteered as a missionary in Brazil. She’d told him it wouldn’t be fair to ask him to work for her.

“I know you’d always had big dreams,” she’d said when they were talking about it. “I wouldn’t want you to hold back on anything because of me.”

Castiel had agreed and they had parted ways in good terms. He’d seen a Facebook picture of her a few weeks back and she was apparently dating someone else now, someone with views and values more aligned to her religious beliefs. He was happy for her.

But it had also take having that painful conversation with Meg for him to realize that his relationship with Daphne had never been that deep. It wasn’t just the sex. It was that there was a certain passion, a certain desperation to be with her, to see her every day, missing. When Daphne left, he didn’t feel like the world was falling apart.

Now he did.

Even though Meg was just a few feet away. Even though he, technically, could walk inside her office and try and talk to her. Even though she acted as if nothing had really changed.

That was really the hardest part: he couldn’t help his heart still beating faster when she walked by him and his head growing light when she looked in his direction. Castiel figured this was what she meant when she said that feelings didn’t just fade away.

Meg, however, just didn’t seem affected at all. She kept giving orders, making decisions, reading manuscripts that reached her desk as if not a single thing had changed. If he tried to talk to her about something that wasn’t work-related, she would deflect and tell him to get back to his desk. In the afternoon, she let him go home early and stayed back, telling him she was busy when he asked if they could talk one more time.

And Castiel was sure she knew how much of an agony this was for him. When he’d walked in his apartment, his friends read it on his face.

“Hey, Cas, we were thinking about ordering a pizza… woah.” Dean interrupted himself, with his perennial bottle of beer halfway to his mouth. “Are you okay? You look pale.”

Castiel had walked past him without saying anything and went to sit on the couch directly. The surreal sensation, that he wasn’t really there, had barely started kicking in, but it was already pretty much everything he could think about.

“I… I think Meg broke up with me…” he heard himself say, distantly, as if he was a million light years away from that living room.

“What do you mean, you think?” Dean asked, frowning.

“Oh, shit.” Sam stood up from the table where he was studying and went to stand up next to him, placing a hand over his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“I… I don’t know,” Castiel stammered. “I don’t think so.”

“Of course he’s not okay, Sammy, look at him!” Dean exclaimed, shaking his head. “Fuck, okay, we’re going to call Benny and we’re going to go out for drinks and…”

“No,” Castiel interrupted him. He shook his head and blinked several times, trying to focus on what was right in front of him. “No, that… that won’t be necessary.”

“What the hell happened?” Sam asked.

“I don’t really want to talk about it,” Castiel said. Partly because it had blindsided him so much that he didn’t know how to even begin to process it, and partly because he wasn’t sure he could talk about it without falling apart completely. And Sam, Dean and Benny had all been so kind to him all this time it felt like it wasn’t fair to unload the brunt of his pain on them.

“Are you sure? Cas, you don’t look so hot right now,” Sam pointed out.

“Yeah. You know I’m not a fan of chick flicks moments and stuff, but like… you need to talk about this, dude.”

Castiel looked up at them and he was suddenly hit with the realization that it was Monday. He wasn’t supposed to be there that day.

“I have to go,” he muttered. “I’m going to be late for my shift at the coffee shop. I have to…”

Sam and Dean held him down on the couch. Dean took his cellphone and without Castiel’s permission, unblocked it and scrolled through his contacts.

“Hi, is this Donna? You’re Castiel’s boss? Yeah, hi, I’m Dean, I’m his roommate.”

“Dean, that is not…” Castiel tried to protest, but Sam shushed him.

“I’m calling you to let you know he won’t be making it tonight,” Dean continued as if he’d heard nothing. “He’s sick. Like, really sick. We think he might have the plague. Yes. Yes. Thank you, ma’am. Good evening to you too.”

He ended the call and threw the cellphone back at Castiel.

“You don’t want us to go out to drink, fine,” he said. “But we’re still going to talk about it.”

“Are _you_ okay?” Sam asked, frowning. “You usually aren’t big on this whole… thing.” He gestured towards Castiel, who was now staring directly at his phone as if he didn’t know what it was.

“Yeah, well, Jo says is healthy that I get in touch with my feelings and… you know what, just go with it,” Dean said. “Let’s get Benny here.”

Benny arrived exactly fifteen minutes later, with pizza, beers and the poker chips. Castiel still wasn’t reacting, not even when they sat him down in the chair and planted a couple of cards in his hands so he could participate.

“Do you want to tell us what happened, brotha’?” Benny prodded him.

“I…”

Castiel could say no more. Something deep inside of his chest broke. His friends looking at him with curiosity, urging to let it all out, was like chirping away at a very unstable wall that barely contained all of his emotions inside. One second he was okay, the next, the fog that had surrounded him all day lifted and his eyes were suddenly itching. He left the cards on the table and covered his eyes with his hands.

For the next fifteen minutes, he was faintly aware that there was someone patting his back and telling him to let it all out, that it was going to be okay. He muttered something about Meg’s ex and how much it hurt, but he was not really sure what he said or not. Sam put a glass of water in his hand (“I’m not sure he should be drinking right now”) and Castiel gulped it down without breathing. He choked and he spent another five to ten minutes coughing and crying some more.

In the end, he only stopped because he was running out of air. They gave him more water, more pats in the back and more pitying looks.

“Well, that’s some bullshit,” Dean concluded. “I’m sorry.”

And in a way, that was exactly what Castiel needed to hear. Not anybody telling him that it would be alright when it felt like nothing would be alright ever again. Not anybody telling him there was some sort of hope after Meg herself had closed that door so firmly. Just someone to agree with him that it was bullshit, all of this was.

It was the first time he had his heart broken and he needed to know that it was okay for him to fall apart over this.

 

* * *

 

He woke up the next day half an hour before his alarm went off, with a headache. The Winchesters and Benny had stayed up late, listening to his story and commiserating with him while they played poker. Castiel won some hands, but he had the feelings the others let him out of pure pity.

He considered for a moment calling in sick and then he realized that would be cowardly. That was what Meg had done on Monday. She had postponed breaking up with him. It was so strange, to think that he had considered her fearless since he’d first met her and it turned out she was the one who had been terrified all along.

It didn’t hurt any less to know that was the reason. Maybe she did, deep down, care for him. But she wasn’t willing to risk people gossiping about her or her daughter being angry. She wasn’t willing to let Castiel prove to her that he wasn’t going to break her heart like Luc had.

It hurt, but it was her decision. Castiel had to respect if for no other reason than that.

He was surprised that her desk was empty when he walked in. Had she decided not to go that day either? Was he going to have to work with Mr. Fitzgerald and Jo once again?

But he had just sat down behind his desk when he heard steps coming in from behind him.

“… and this is going to be your desk… good morning, Castiel,” Meg said, her voice flat. She was followed close behind by a short, blonde girl who stared at Castiel with eyes wide open.

“Umh… hello?”

“This is Muriel,” Meg introduced her. “She is going to be your replacement.”

Castiel’s heart jumped to his throat.

“My… you’re firing me?”

“What? No, of course not.” Meg shook her head. “I had your interview for a paid position moved for this Friday, and I think you’re very likely to get it.”

“What? No on informed me of that…”

Just as he was speaking, his cellphone chimed in with an email. It came from HR and it informed exactly of the same thing Meg had just told him: his interview had been moved for Friday morning.

“So… I’m going to be needing a new personal assistant,” Meg concluded, with that settled. “Hence, Muriel.”

“Oh,” Castiel muttered.

This was good. This was what he’d wanted. It was actually great that he could have this interview on Friday: he could go on his road trip and spend the weekend with Hannah without having to worry about it anymore. He should be happy.

On the other hand… he didn’t expect it to happen that fast. He imagined he was going to have some very uncomfortable two weeks ahead of him before he never had to see Meg again, not unless he had to climb up there for one reason or another. He didn’t think… but of course she wanted to be rid of him as soon as possible. She probably wanted to start forgetting about him. Did she think it had been a mistake to get involved with him in the first place?

“I… thank you for that,” he said still. “You didn’t have to.”

“I kinda did.” Meg smiled, but there was a twinge of bitterness to it. “I think you’ve earned it. It’s not easy being my personal assistant, as Muriel is about to find out.”

Muriel let out a nervous laughter and toyed with a lock of her hair. If she thought Meg was joking, she was about to find out otherwise.

“Show her the ropes,” Meg instructed him. “Don’t forget to explain to her exactly how I drink my coffee.”

She walked inside her office, closed the door and drew the blinds. So Castiel guessed he was going to see very little of her for the rest of the day.

“So… what am I supposed to do?” Muriel asked, looking around as if she didn’t know where to even begin. Castiel pitied her a bit. He remembered being just as lost as her on his first day, but he hadn’t had the benefit of learning from Meg’s previous assistant… or the benefit of her cutting him some slack.

He shoved that thought to the back of his mind. Muriel was already bringing an extra chair to sit by his side. She took out a notebook, clicked her pen and stared at Castiel with expecting wide eyes.

So, they were really doing this. Castiel sat down with a sigh.

“How good are you at memorizing names?”

The rest of the day, he spent it explaining who were the heads of the different editorial branches, which people had direct access to Meg when they called and who needed to be put on hold if there was something else the boss was doing at that time. She also needed to learn the deadlines and what needed Meg’s personal seal of approval and what could be delegated.

As he went on, he couldn’t help a pang of sadness. He had learned so much by her side, the ins and outs of running Fitzgerald & Masters and what could make or break a book. He had no idea what part of the machine he was going to be destined with, but he knew he was never going to have a global sight of it all as he did now.

“And what else?” Muriel asked after she was done taking notes of all the names and numbers she needed to know.

“What do you mean what else?”

“She doesn’t need me to pick up her laundry, wash her dog…?”

Castiel thought about Hamlet, and how he was always running around and asking for belly rubs. Was he going to be sentimental about every little thing that reminded her of Meg?

“She will occasionally have you fetch her lunch,” he told Muriel. “But your job will be mostly at this desk.”

Muriel laughed, a sound of pure joy and relief.

“My previous boss was a hardass. He had me do every little thing for him.” She shook her head. “This is actually going to be an improvement.”

“You won’t be saying that a week for now,” Castiel guaranteed her.

Muriel giggled and once again pull from her blonde curls. She did that a lot.

Castiel wondered if Meg had brought her over to run interference, to prevent him from trying to speak with her again. If that was the case, it worked great: that day and the following one, he ended up spending more time with Muriel, explaining her how to use the computer and who to call if there was a problem, what she should do with the manuscripts that Jo would come to leave on her table and the fact that Meg hated any type of sugar in her coffee.

It still ached his heart every time Meg walked past him without even acknowledging his presence. He still wanted to grab her by the arm and kiss her and tell her she was making a mistake and beg for her to give him another chance. Every time he found Muriel’s eyes on him and that stopped him in his tracks.

He went home after his shift at the coffee shop and spent the night staring at the ceiling above himself.

He still felt like he was going to drown on his tears if he thought about it for too long, so in the end, he grabbed his computer (the computer Hamlet had broken and that Meg had repaired for him) and, for the first time in what felt like ages, he opened his manuscript.

There were still some adjustments he needed to make.

 

* * *

 

Thursday was more of the same, except he let Muriel handle all the phone calls while he worked on his manuscript.

Meg was out on a meeting for most of the day.

 

* * *

 

He borrowed a blue tie from Sam and arrived five minutes early to HR quarters on Friday morning. There were a handful of people: a balding man in a black suit, a girl and a guy his age that Castiel wondered if they were other interns, a woman who kept nervously looking at her nails as if she was wondering whether to bite them or not. Castiel looked at them closely and wondered if he wanted to start a conversation with any of them, but in the end, he decided not to.

“Castiel Novak?” a female voice called him.

Castiel stood up and followed the short-haired woman inside her office.

“I’m Tessa,” she introduced herself as she beckoned Castiel to have a seat. “Now, let’s see what we have here.”

She said nothing else for several minutes, as she clicked something on her computer and leafed through a light blue folder in front of her. Castiel had to resist the urge to lean over and spied whatever it was that she was reading. Tessa huffed and scoffed and shook her head, as if she was frustrated about something.

“Why can’t people never fill out their forms correctly?” she muttered in the end. “I swear, sometimes I feel people want to make my work harder.”

“Umh… excuse me?” Castiel muttered. “Aren’t you going to ask me anything?”

“What?” Tessa blinked at him and then chuckled. “Oh, that. No, don’t worry. This is just a formality.”

“I don’t understand…”

“Mrs. Masters wrote a glowing recommendation for you and with your CV, I’m sure you’re going to be a valuable addition to Fitzgerald and Masters,” Tessa explained. “We’re going to move you to Submissions. You’re going to be one of our filters. Basically your job will be to check out that the unsolicited manuscripts have all the conditions we require for a senior editor to take a look at it and if it doesn’t, you’re going to be redacting the rejection letters. It’s an entry level position and it can be tedious, but hey, I’m sure it’s going to be a step up from having to answer the boss’ phone for free.”

Castiel didn’t say anything. He needed a moment to process everything that Tessa was saying.

“Umh… yes,” he muttered in the end. “Can I ask you something? About Mrs. Masters recommendation?”

A smirk appeared on Tessa’s lips.

“I am aware of your… personal relationship with her. It was in your file. But this was written all the way back in May, so don’t worry, you’re not getting this thanks to nepotism.”

May. That had been about when Meg had agreed to take a look at his manuscript and invited him to spend the weekends at her home. It was before he’d kissed her in her office and before they both admitted having feelings for each other. It seemed like a lifetime away now.

“Honestly, I thought you being the boss’ boyfriend would get you an even better position,” Tessa chuckled, as if all of this was hilarious to her. “But I guess not.”

“Meg believes in working hard for what you want,” Castiel said. He didn’t realize it’d been out loud until Tessa nodded in agreement.

“That she does. Okay, let’s talk about your salary then.”

It wasn’t enough for him to move out of the Winchesters’ apartment, but more than enough for him to quit his job at the coffee shop. He would have to submit his two weeks’ notice there. He was sure Jody and Donna would be happy for him.

After lunch, he was going to his apartment to pick up the keys to the Impala that Dean had agreed to lent him. He’s said he was spending the weekend at Jo’s, so he didn’t mind Castiel taking the car. Castiel was going to have six hours to drive and cry all he wanted and then, that night, he was going to be home with Hannah. They’d had a nice home-cooked meal and then he’d be able to sleep in his bedroom’s childhood, forget about everything for a while.

On Monday, he started a new life.

But he couldn’t do that until he’d tied up some loose ends in this one.

After Tessa dismissed him with an official welcome to the company, Castiel headed directly to the elevator, clutching his backpack close to his chest like a shield. He was certain, in his heart of hearts, that this would be the last time he was going to climb to Meg’s office and talk to her. Maybe he would run into her sometimes around the building, maybe he would catch a glimpse of her here and there. But it just wouldn’t be the same.

Muriel greeted him with a smile.

“Hey, how’d it go?”

Before Castiel could say a word, Meg popped her head out of her office.

“Did you need anything, Castiel?” she asked. Her voice sounded cold.

“Yes.” Castiel breathed in deeply to gather up all his courage. “To talk to you. Just a moment. Please? It’s important.”

Meg opened her mouth and for a second, for a terrible second, Castiel thought she was going to tell him she was busy and to please go away. But then she closed it and nodded. He followed her inside and sat on her couch as she drew the blinds so that Muriel couldn’t spy on them.

“So… I assume your meeting with HR went well,” she said. Castiel noticed she did him the favor not to insult his intelligence by calling it an interview.

“Yes. But you already knew that.”

Meg didn’t even try denying it. She moved to lean against her desk, with a smirk on her lips.

“You didn’t have to come all the way here to thank me,” she said.

“I didn’t come for that. I mean, I didn’t come just for that,” Castiel explained.

He licked his lips and lifted his eyes at her. God, she was so beautiful, with her red lipstick and her hair tied up in a bun. He had the sudden urge to untie it while he kissed her, to run his fingers through her curls like he had done so many times and yet not nearly enough.

“Clarence?”

Castiel startled to hear his nickname in her voice. He pushed aside what he was thinking and forced a smile for her. He wasn’t sure how successful he was.

He opened his backpack and extracted the stack of papers that he’d had print the day before.

“I think it’s finished,” he told Meg. “For real this time. It would mean a lot if you read it. I always appreciate your opinion on it.”

“Oh.” Meg raised an eyebrow, surprised at his request. “Yes, of course.”

She made no effort to come and get it, so Castiel stood up and walked towards her to leave it on her desk. She still said nothing, but he suddenly realized that they were standing very close and that her eyes almost burned on his. Or perhaps it was his skin that was burning by her mere closeness.

“I…” he started and choked. He had to clear his throat before he could continue: “I’m not going to ask you to reconsider your decision about us. I know you won’t. I know you’re doing what you think it’s best for your family and I respect that. It’s one of the things I admire the most about you, your loyalty.”

Meg glanced away from him. Castiel wanted to believe that his presence had made her as nervous as hers did him, but she had always been so hard to read.

“Then, why…?”

“I don’t want us to part ways in bad terms,” Castiel told her. “You were… you _are_ so important to me and you always will be. Even if we weren’t together for that long.”

Meg closed her eyes, letting out a long deep sigh as she did.

“Don’t think this was easy for me.”

Castiel’s heart thrummed in his chest, a glimmer of hope lightning up inside of him. Perhaps she would change her mind after all, perhaps they could…

But when she looked at him again and the resolution he saw there was more than enough to bring him back down to earth again.

“You need to get a girl, Cas,” she told him. “A good girl. A girl your own age.”

“I don’t think anyone is ever going to be like you.”

She said nothing to that. And honestly, Castiel didn’t think there was anything left to say.

He leaned over and placed his lips against her temple. Her skin was warm and he thought he felt her hand tremble underneath his. He thought she looked sad when he backed away to take one last good look at her. But she refused to meet his gaze and honestly, Castiel expected nothing else from her.

She had already given him much more than he could have ever expected.

“Goodbye, Meg.”

“You… you’re going to your sister’s this weekend, right?” she asked him.

Castiel was surprised she remembered it, after she had been so flippant about it on Monday.

“Yes. I’m leaving in a couple of hours.”

“Well… drive safely.”

“Thank you.” He fidgeted with the edge of his shirt for a moment. “Umh… good luck with Luc.”

“Thank you.”

And there was really nothing left to say.

Castiel walked out of the office, resisting the urge to look over his shoulder. He only turned around once he was inside the elevator. He thought he saw Meg standing on the doorway of her office, looking in his direction. Her lips were parted as if she wanted to say something else, as if she was about to call him. If she had, if she had said anything to him right then, he would have run to her, grab her in his arms and kissed her until they were both out of breath, without a care in the world, without wondering what Muriel or anyone else might think of them. He would repeat over and over that he loved her until she believed him. Until she said it back.

But then the elevator’s doors closed and she disappeared from his view.


	12. Chapter 12

The garden outside his parents’ home looked amazingly green. Not California green, not like Meg’s perfectly gardened front lawn. This was a symphony of different shades of green, and if one looked close enough, they could see other colors too: pink roses and white daises and lavender growing among the green. A beehive hanged from the pine tree in front of the living room’s window, with its inhabitants buzzing happily as they worked the evening away.

Castiel stood underneath the dying sun, looking at his old place, his heart strangled by a nostalgic feeling he couldn’t shake off.

It looked bigger. He had thought that after being away for so long, after living in the city for half a year and seeing those great buildings and the mansions from Meg’s neighborhood, he would find it smaller. But maybe it was from living in a cramped space for so long, but it looked bigger than he remembered.

He took a step towards the fence, but before he could take a single step, the front door swung open and Hannah came running down the stone path that lead to him.

“There you are!” she shouted as she placed her arms around his neck and pulled him in close for a hug. “Big city boy finally comes home!”

“I’m not a big city boy,” Castiel said, laughing. “It’s great to see you, Hannah.”

And it really was. She looked wonderful, with her hair tied up in a ponytail and her bright blue eyes that were exactly like his shining. She grinned wide at him and grabbed him by the arm to guide him inside. Castiel noticed she had hanged a couple more wind chimes all around the porch that twinkled lightly in the breeze.

“Are you hungry? Are you tired?” Hannah asked him. “How was your trip? Did you have any trouble?”

Castiel was a little startled by all those questions, so he decided to answer the most recent one first.

“No, it was very pleasant.”

That was lie, but only a little one. The Impala, despite how old it was and how much gas it needed, ran smoothly and could probably had resisted a truck crashing against it. So Castiel’s trip had been good on that front, but he had spent most of it singing along to sad songs on the radio and crying copiously over his last conversation with Meg. He’d stopped on a gas station right outside the town to wash his face so Hannah wouldn’t notice his puffy red eyes.

“I am so happy to hear that!” Hannah’s smile was wide and sincere. “Sit down. I’ll have dinner ready in a minute. You still like meatballs, don’t you?”

“Yes?” Despite it all, Castiel had to laugh at that question. “Why wouldn’t I like meatballs?”

“Well, I don’t know what kind of friends you have over there,” Hannah said. “For all I know, you might have become a vegetarian and not tell me about it.”

Castiel understood what she was saying. Despite talking to her every couple of days and texting her daily, he’d done very little to actually tell her what had been going on with his life. Hannah, of course, didn’t prod him for questions, but she was more than likely to realize there were things he hadn’t been telling to her.

He left his duffle bag on the couch and moved to the kitchen to help her out. It wasn’t as big or as modern as Meg’s, but in a way, it was cozier: Hannah had hanged aromatic herbs from the cabinets and she’d crocheted her own oven mitts. She was standing next to the stove and laughed it off when Castiel asked what he could help her with.

“You don’t have to do that,” she insisted. “I thought the point of you coming here was that I got to baby you a little bit.”

“The point was actually celebrating your birthday.” Ignoring her protests, Castiel picked up one of the aprons she had hanging next to the cabinets and threw it above his head. “How are we going to go about doing that, by the way?”

Hannah tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. Castiel knew that meant she was nervous about something.

“Hannah?”

“I’ll tell you about mine if you tell me about yours,” she proposed.

Castiel didn’t need to ask what she meant. Of course she suspected that he had been dating someone.

“You first.”

Hannah’s girlfriend (“She’s not my girlfriend. Not yet, at least. We’re… we’ll see”) was a woman named Kim. She was a tow-truck driver, a mechanic, an amazing, wonderful, beautiful person (according to Hannah) and she had seven years old daughter, Frankie, from her previous marriage.

“She’s the cutest thing,” Hannah told him. “She talks all the time. She’s like a squirrel, she won’t stop running around all the time. Look, she gave me this friendship bracelet!” She raised her hand so Castiel could see a colorful string braided around her wrist. “I can’t even tell you… Kim didn’t want to introduce me to her until we’ve been dating for a while, but she walked down the stairs one night and insisted on introducing herself to ‘mommy’s friend’. Nothing gets past her, I swear.”

Castiel just looked at her with a smile. It was plain to see that Hannah was head over heels for Frankie as much as she was for Kim. He didn’t understand her hesitation to say she was dating Kim, though.

“It’s just… it’s complicated, Castiel,” she said, shaking her head. She opened the oven and pushed the meatballs in. “Frankie is very little and Kim and I are very early into this relationship. I keep thinking… what if things don’t work out and that little girl is disappointed that her friend left her, too? It’s already harsh enough that her dad walked out on them when she was so little. I don’t want to be another source of trauma for that little girl.”

“I’m sure you won’t be,” Castiel said. “But I guess I understand. My… the person I was seeing… she… she also had a daughter. It’s a funny story, actually.”

Hannah turned to look at him with eyes wide open due to the surprise and Castiel suddenly regretted having started by mentioning Ruby.

So he backtracked and told her the whole story: how it had started with a sort of tutelage in which Meg instructed him how to be a better writer, how they had both caught feelings for each other and how their relationship had started very fast, only to fall apart just as quickly.

He was proud of himself for sobbing only a little bit.

Hannah kept staring at him open-mouthed and that really, really didn’t help.

“Hannah, the meatballs.”

Hannah snapped out of her astonishment long enough to pull the dinner out of the oven when it was still slightly charred.

“So, let me get this straight,” she said, pulling out her mitts and twisting them in her hands before pointing at Castiel. “You… were dating a cougar?”

“That’s what you got from all this story?” Castiel squinted at her. He grabbed a paper napkin and blew his nose. “That Meg was older than me?”

“Not just older. _Significantly_ older,” Hannah corrected him. She leaned against the counter. “Like… what did you even have in common with her? How did that even work?”

“I’m not sure,” Castiel admitted. “It just did. I looked at her and all I saw was this incredible, complicated, headstrong woman. It was inevitable that I fell for her. I never thought she’d reciprocate it.”

His voice started breaking again.

“Oh, Cas.” Hannah walked up to him and put her hands on his cheeks to make him look at her. “I’m sorry if I said something insensitive. It’s just… all this thing caught me by surprise. You walked in, I knew you look older somehow. I didn’t imagine it was because you’ve had your heart broken for the first time.”

Castiel took a second to assimilate those words. Just like it’d happened with sex, suddenly all the things he’d heard about love and how devastating it was to lose it made sense. He hadn’t even realize that Hannah was right until she’d mentioned it just then.

“I guess it doesn’t matter now,” he sighed. “She decided to go back to his ex. I… that’s something I can’t understand. She deserves better. I don’t know if I was the person who could’ve given that to her. But she deserves better than a man who cheated on and abandoned her.”

Hannah smiled at him and grabbed the pincers to start picking up the meatballs.

“We accept the love that we think we deserve.”

It sounded like one of those mantras she posted on Facebook from time to time.

“What does that mean?”

“It means, I don’t think I was the only one who had a problem with the age difference,” Hannah pointed out. She finished serving the meatballs and passed the plate to Castiel. Instead of taking it to the table, though, he stayed where he was, thinking about this.

“I tried, Hannah. I tried to show her that I’m mature enough to have a serious relationship, that I wanted to…”

“No, that’s not it,” Hannah interrupted him. She lifted the lid to check on the spaghetti and nodded to herself, satisfied at what she saw. “I think she was the one who was insecure, who didn’t think that she deserved to be in a relationship with someone younger man that basically worshiped the ground she stepped on.”

She served the spaghetti on a platter and also gave it to Castiel, who stood in the middle of the kitchen like some sort of strange scarecrow, holding the food and blinking rapidly.

“That’s… that can’t possibly… she was always so confident…”

“Castiel, you’re going to drop that.”

Castiel went to leave them over the table, but he returned to the kitchen just as quickly. He felt like he was at the edge of having some sort of epiphany and he wanted to keep exploring that.

“Meg knew that I didn’t care about those things,” he argued while Hannah washed the pots that she had used to cook. “She knew I would never…”

“She told you herself you should be with someone your age. Perhaps she didn’t think that the problem was you, but her being too old to really make you happy.”

Castiel simply stared at Hannah for the longest of time. Could she be right? All this time he’d thought he was the one who had done something wrong, who hadn’t provided enough evidence that he was ready for a compromise. It had never occurred to him that the problem could lie with Meg simply not believing it because of her own issues.

Hannah dried her hands in her apron and turned to him with a smile.

“You know, for someone so smart, sometimes you can be really dumb, little brother.” She stepped towards him and gave him a peck on the cheek. “Let’s have dinner.”

Luckily for him, the topic of conversation changed while they ate: Castiel mentioned that he was officially no longer Meg’s personal assistant and that he was actually going to get paid to work at Fitzgerald and Masters. Hannah celebrated that with a toast with ice water (Castiel hadn’t realized how much beer the Winchesters drank until he was away) and then moved on to a different issue.

“And what does this mean for your book?”

“I did some extensive editing in the last months,” he admitted. He didn’t mention that it had been thanks to Meg’s influence, but he figured it was implied. “Would you like to read it?”

“Of course!” she said, with a laugh. “So if you can print it tomorrow…”

“Actually, I have a printed copy right now.”

Hannah punched him in the bicep. Gently, so it didn’t really hurt.

“Goddammit, Cas, I’m gonna be up all night reading it now!”

“You don’t _have_ to.”

Hannah shook her head. “You said I am your most reliable reader, so of course I have to.”

Castiel laughed and gave it to her so she could sit on the couch and start with it. He brought her a mug of tea and picked up the table. While he was washing the dishes, his thoughts slip back to Meg.

Luc was probably back from Paris by then. He wondered if they’d have dinner with Ruby so she could mediate between the two or if they would go out alone. What would they say? What excuse could he possibly have to justify what he’d done?

Would Meg forgive him? The fact that she had preemptively broken up with Castiel indicated so, but with this new insight that Hannah had provided, Castiel really hoped Meg wouldn’t. She was still so beautiful and vibrant and had so much to give… it simply didn’t seem fair for her.

“Don’t stay up too late,” he told Hannah on his way upstairs.

Hannah hummed, noncommittally, and turned the page without even looking up at Castiel.

He entered his old childhood bedroom and breathed in the familiar smell of the lavender bags that Hannah hanged around to keep the place fresh. The late summer night was clear and fragrant beyond his window. His books lined up on the shelf and his desk was a mess half-filled journals and notebooks, just as he had left it the day he moved to California. Castiel moved them aside and settled his computer between them. He checked his email first but he wasn’t surprised to see that there was no message from Meg. It might have been naïve to expect otherwise.

He should go to sleep. He had been travelling for hours and tomorrow they were having a picnic next to the lake with Kim and the apparently tireless Frankie. He had planned on waking up early and make Hannah a birthday breakfast. He had her present safely tucked in his bag: a mug with a colorful mandala painted on it, the mugs that Jody and Donna sold in their coffee shop. He knew Hannah was going to love it because she was a hipster like that.

And frankly, he needed to keep in mind that this trip was about her, after all. He’d come there to celebrate Hannah’s birthday, not to run away from his emotional problems.

But it had feel so nice to talk about her about all of this. And he’d even gained some new perspective about it all.

He tapped his cellphone’s screen, scrolled down to Meg’s contact info and stared at her picture for a long time. It was one he had snapped in her house, one of the sunny afternoons he had spent there. She had her head thrown back in laughter, her dark hair damp because she’d just come out of the pool. The strap of her dress had slid down, revealing a seductive shoulder to the camera.

Castiel’s heart felt heavy and strangled, as if an invisible hand was squeezing it. But this was good. It was natural. It was broken, after all, and he didn’t know when it would heal or if it would heal at all. But despite the pain and the sadness, he knew he didn’t regret a second of what he’d lived by Meg’s side.

He put the cellphone away, opened a new document and started typing the night away.

 

* * *

 

He required three alarm clocks to wake up the following day. He had slept a grand total of four hours and it felt like he was moving through thick jelly until he was underneath the shower. The water badgering over his head helped, but it wasn’t until the smell of coffee reached his nostrils that he started feeling awake again.

In the living room, Hannah had falling asleep with his book over her chest. Castiel gently moved her blanket to tuck her in and then got on with his plan of preparing a birthday breakfast. As he waited for the eggs to boil and the water to be ready for more tea, he checked his cellphone again.

There were no emails or texts or missed calls from Meg. He frankly couldn’t explain why he thought there would be.

It was pathetic. It was sad that he kept thinking about her when she had been so clear that she wanted to forget about him. But he couldn’t help it.

He started typing out a message.

_> Hello, how are you?_

He immediately deleted it, though. He had no right to ask anything for her.

_> I arrived well. Hannah is good. Really wish you’d got to meet her._

He deleted that too. She hadn’t cared about him wanted to meet his sister before, why would she now?

And, if he was being honest with himself, none of that was what he really wanted to tell her.

_> I miss you. It hasn’t been a day since I saw you last, nor a week since you told me it was over. But I miss you as if I hadn’t seen you in years. I’m not angry at you and I don’t think I ever could be. I love you and I want you back; I want us to go back to what we had. But I understand if you don’t want that. Is there a way for us to at least still be friends? It would mean a lot to me to still have you in my life, one way or another._

He stopped writing and re-read the message. Well, that was definitely sad.

The doorbell rang, startling him. He left his cellphone on the counter and went to open.

There was a brunette woman wearing jeans and a flannel, holding a weaver basket on one hand and a little girl who observed Castiel with big, curious eyes on the other. He didn’t even need to ask who they were.

“You’re Castiel?” the woman asked. “Hi, I’m Kim.”

Castiel placed a finger against his lips.

“Nice to meet you,” he whispered, offering his hand to her. “Hannah is asleep. I’m trying to surprise her with breakfast.”

“Oh, okay.” Kim lowered her voice: “Can we help you?”

“I don’t see why not,” he said and crouched to smile at the little girl. “You must be Frankie. I heard a lot about you.”

Frankie gave him a shy smile which had two teeth missing.

Hannah was still sleeping soundly in the couch, so they headed to the kitchen. Kim left the basket aside and started looking for the mugs and Hannah’s teas. The fact she knew exactly where to find them indicated Castiel that this wasn’t the first morning she spent in the house.

“She was really excited about you coming here,” Kim told him. “She keeps talking about how you’re working to become a famous writer.”

“I don’t know about famous,” Castiel laughed. “But I am trying.”

“I think that’s great. It’s great that you’re pursuing your dreams. Hannah admires you a lot for it.”

Castiel had reasons to suspect that Kim was only saying that because she wanted him to like her. But she sounded sincere enough that he had no doubt she was telling the truth.

“Thank you. And I’m glad you’re here with her,” he told her. “I often worry that she’s too lonely with me all the way in California. So it’s good to know that she has someone with her.”

Having exchanged those pleasantries, they had not much else to talk about. Luckily, the breakfast was almost ready by then. Castiel put it on a platter to take it to the couch.

“Are you ready?”

“Sure… Frankie?” Kim called and looked around.

It took them a moment to see her, because she was crouched next to the fridge, quietly tapping the screen of a cellphone. Castiel’s cellphone, in fact.

“Frankie!” Kim said, picking her up. “That isn’t yours!”

Frankie lowered her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she said, handing it back to Castiel. “I wanted to play Angry Birds.”

“It’s okay,” Castiel said, putting it away in his back pocket. It was a good thing he had deleted all those messages he’d been thinking about sending to Meg. “Why don’t you go wake Hannah up?”

Frankie’s face lit up at the suggestion. She ran towards the couch where Hannah was already sitting up and threw herself at her with such vigor Hannah barely had time to catch her.

“Hey!” she greeted her, laughing. “Where did you come from?”

“Happy birthday!” Frankie screamed, in a high pitch, excited voice.

“Thank you! Oh, guys!” Hannah said, while Castiel placed the platter on her lap. “You didn’t have to do that!”

“Of course we did,” Kim said, leaning over and kissing her on the edge of the lips. “Happy birthday.”

The conversation was much livelier after Hannah woke up and joined in. They talked about Hannah possibly being ascended to manager of the restaurant she worked at before the end of the year (“I keep telling her, she knows better than anyone how that place works. She deserves it,” Kim said) and about how much of Castiel’s books she’d managed to re-read the night before. (“I really like what you did with the ghost. I cried in chapter seven”). Frankie regaled them with the story of a dream she’d had the previous night.

“I dreamed that my snot was a rocket, and it shot into space and knocked down the stars to make room for more rockets!”

“That sounds like some very special snot,” Castiel commented, which made not just Frankie, but also Kim and Hannah giggle.

“We should get ready,” Kim said, leaving her mug of coffee on the table. “The lake’s waiting.”

Frankie let out another loud shrill of excitement and jumped from her chair to run towards the door without even waiting for Hannah to get up and get dressed. Everyone laughed once more at her antics.

The Crater Lake was only an hour drive away, but they haven’t been there in a while. He played to counting birds in the backseat of Kim’s truck along with Frankie to keep her entertained, because she apparently liked birds a lot. They left their car parked along the others and hiked towards its shore. At one point, Frankie got tired, so they took turns giving her piggyback rides to the shore. There were already a lot of hikers, campers and some loud teenagers enjoying the last few days of their summer vacation. They settled their picnic blanket on a nearly secluded spot and ate peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. For desert, Kim pulled out some cupcakes, placed a single candle on one of them and encouraged Castiel and Frankie to sing “Happy Birthday” along with her while Hannah smiled and blushed.

Afterwards, Frankie ran around trying to get her comet to fly. Hannah and Kim sat against a nearby tree and held hands, talking in whispers, giggling and exchanging kisses now and then. Castiel wrote in his journal some notes for the story he had begun the night before. It was about a librarian, a woman who locked herself away in her books and shut the rest of the world out. He still didn’t know where it was going. Just like with Marin and Taylor, the character had appeared fully formed in his head, nameless and new. It was a great feeling, to let the words flow, to let the story occupy his mind so he didn’t have to think about…

“Alright, Frankie, time to go home!” Kim called.

“Can’t we stay a little longer?”

“Come on now,” Kim insisted. “You can watch whatever movie you want before dinner.”

That convinced Frankie to come running back.

There were no games this time, because she fell asleep with the movement of the car five minutes into the ride while the adults discussed what they wanted to eat that night. Hannah insisted it needn’t be something fancy.

“You guys have done so much already. It’s okay if we just order something in.”

“Of course. But it will be my treat,” Kim said. “No one can say I don’t know how to treat my lady.”

Castiel smiled sadly to himself as he looked outside the window. He should have pampered Meg more when he had the chance. He should have insisted on taking her out, on…

He was thinking so much about her that he was seeing things. He closed his eyes, rubbed them and then opened them again, but the car was still there.

“Are you… seeing that?”

Kim and Hannah looked at the red BMW parked right outside their home, behind Dean’s Impala. Kim let out a whistle of admiration.

“That thing costs more than my entire workshop!” she commented. “Did any of your neighbors win the lottery lately?”

“That’s not from any of our neighbors,” Hannah said.

She sounded confused. Castiel would have loved to explain it to her, but he was too busy looking up and down the street, searching for a glimpse of brown, curly hair, still half-believing that he was dreaming…

Meg was standing in the front door. She donned jeans and a black leather jacket that he had never seen her on before, but it was her. Castiel exited the truck even before Kim had turned off the motor and practically jumped over the fence to get to Meg. She turned around just as he was running towards her. Her eyes grew wide, but other than that, her face remained completely expressionless as she descended the porch’s steps and walked up to him.

For a second or two, they did nothing but stare at each other. Castiel once again felt that strangling sensation crawling up his chest, but he forced himself to breathe in deeply.

“You… what are you doing…?”

“I wasn’t sure I had the right address…” Meg started at the same time.

They both went quiet. Castiel stared at her, incredulously, unable to process the fact that she was really there. He looked at her big brown eyes, her hair, her lips curved up in a smirk…

He realized that, despite himself, he was smiling as well.

“Umh… Cas?” Hannah called him. She was coming up to them with Kim carrying a still sleepy Frankie in her arms. “Is this a friend of yours?”

“This is… this… Hannah, this is Meg,” Castiel stuttered nervously.

“Oh,” Hannah muttered. She clenched her jaw and narrowed her eyes at Meg. She didn’t have to say another word for Castiel to know that his sister had decided to hate her. “Oh.”

“I’m sorry. I know it’s your birthday and I didn’t mean to interrupt…” Meg started.

“We weren’t expecting you, that’s all,” Hannah said, cutting.

“Yes.” For the first time since Castiel knew her, Meg looked like she was out of her depth. She shifted the weight of her body from one feet to the other and straightened her shoulders. “I just… needed to talk to Castiel. Urgently.”

“Well, we were just about to go in and start planning for dinner,” Hannah said, still in the same tense tone. “So maybe…”

“Hannah,” Castiel interrupted her. “It’s okay. Really.”

Hannah obviously didn’t think so. She looked at Castiel, and then at Kim, who shrugged. She obviously wasn’t aware of what was going on there at all.

“Right,” Hannah muttered in the end. “We’ll be just inside.”

She walked past Meg and threw a glare at her so cold it could have frozen hell itself. Meg only smiled nervously at her. Once the door closed behind them, she turned back to Castiel.

“I… assume you told her everything.”

“Of course I told her everything. She’s my sister.”

“Right.” Meg laughed, but it sounded strange. Nervous, somehow. “So that’s not the greatest start for this.”

Castiel didn’t say anything to that. If only because he wasn’t even sure what “this” was.

“Meg, what are you doing here?”

Meg licked her lips. Castiel noticed that she was wearing very little make up, as if she’d wanted to make herself presentable before she’d showed there but didn’t want to overdo it. He knew because she called it her “informal make up”.

“Can we sit?”

They sat on the steps of the porch. Meg fidgeted with her fingers before she turned her attention to Castiel:

“You… I… I wanted to apologize,” she started.

Castiel once again had to check if he wasn’t dreaming.

“Meg Masters? Apologizing for something?” he repeated, frowning.

“Don’t,” Meg sighed. “This is already a mess.”

Castiel couldn’t help but to agree with her. They stayed in silence once more, watching the bees busy themselves around the hive. Castiel was acutely aware that Meg’s hand was only a few inches away from his. She wasn’t wearing any rings and there was a nicotine patch on her wrist. If he just stretched it and grabbed it… but he didn’t have the right to do that anymore.

“You were right.”

Her words took him by surprise. He didn’t speak, just look at her as she struggled to speak.

“You were right. I was running back to Luc because I was afraid. Afraid of ridicule, afraid of… being hurt again. I don’t know, just… scared.” She made a pause. “And I pushed you away and I hurt you. And I’m sorry for that.”

Castiel took in those words with a shuddering breath. There was a lump in his throat all of the sudden that he didn’t know if he could dissolve.

“Dinner with Luc was a disaster,” Meg continued, with a chuckle. “He said we should look past each other’s ‘indiscretions’ and start anew.”

“Woah,” Castiel said. “I… I really don’t want to insult your daughter’s father, but…”

“Oh, insult him. It can’t be worse than what I told to his face.” She laughed again, lighter this time and rubbed her eyes. “What was I thinking? I thought he really regretted acting like such an ass. Turns out, he only regretted that he blew off the settlement money so fast.”

“That’s…” Castiel stared at her, baffled. “I can’t even…”

“Me neither.” Meg agreed. She stretched her legs and leaned back against the step, sighing deeply. “Ruby was really pissed off that I wouldn’t give him a second chance, so… I had to get out of that house.”

“So you… drove all the way here?” Castiel frowned. “How did you even get this address?”

“Honestly, I just planned to stay in a hotel for the weekend,” Meg explained. “But then I got your message and I knew I had to come.”

“My message…?” Castiel asked, but then it all came rushing back to him.

The message he had written that morning. He’d left his cellphone unattended and Frankie had grabbed it to play. He took it out of his back pocket and checked that it, indeed, had been sent, received and read.

He almost wanted to laugh. If it hadn’t been for that silly, little thing, she wouldn’t be here right now, saying everything he’d dreamed about hearing her say…

“I asked Ash to pull up your file,” Meg continued. “Hannah’s number and address was listed as your emergency contact.”

“Can you do that? Is that legal?”

“Are you going to complain?” she asked, with a short shrug.

Castiel figured he wouldn’t.

Meg’s hand came to rest on his. Her touch was light and once again, he found himself falling into her eyes when she looked up at him.

“Can you forgive me?” she asked, in a whisper.

“I…” Castiel wanted to say that he had already forgiven her. But he also knew that there were some things they needed to address urgently. “Meg, it can’t be like it was. If you’re going to be with me, I want you to be _with_ me. I don’t want just weekends and…”

“Done,” Meg interrupted him. Her hand came to rest on his cheek. “I’m all in, Clarence. For real this time.”

Her lips were on his before he could say or even think anything else. Castiel closed his eyes and melted against her, letting it wash away all his doubts and fears and anger. His heart fluttered in his chest, like an anchor being lifted from it and he had to hold back a sob when she moved back and smiled at him.

“I love you, too,” she said.

“Oh,” Castiel answered. He hadn’t expected her to come out and say it. He hadn’t expected to feel so lightheaded and dizzy when he heard it. “Oh. Well, you… you could have mentioned that earlier.”

Meg’s laughter sounded like the music of the wind chimes above their heads.

The door behind them opened and Kim appeared on the doorway. She seemed really amused about something, barely containing a giggle before she spoke:

“Hannah wants to know if your, uh… friend is staying for dinner.”

“Girlfriend,” Meg corrected her. “And yes, I would love to.”

“We’ll be there in a second,” Castiel promised.

Kim closed the door in her wake. They heard her laughing loudly on the other side.

They looked at each other and Castiel placed a hand on the back of her neck to pull her in for another kiss. Sweetly. Softly. The way he wanted to really kiss her could wait until they were upstairs, alone.

“Are you ready?” he asked when they broke away.

Meg looked at the door with eyes wide opened, but then she swallowed and stuck her chin up.

“Sure. It can’t be worse that brunch with Ruby.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure.”

Castiel stood up and grabbed her hand, pulling her up with him. Meg stumbled and fell in his arms. He closed his eyes and squeezed her tight against him, to let her know that she didn’t have to hold back anymore. They were both right where they belonged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


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